Birth of the Legend
by Frozen789
Summary: Rowena Ravenclaw was just struggling to survive in a court of forced marriage, intrigue, and war. Thrust from her castle into a cruel world, she befriends a mysterious girl named Helga, a knight titled Gryffindor, and a greasy revenge-driven man called Slytherin. Facing a total war, their names would soon become LEGEND.
1. Prologue II

_Prologue_

 _Their names are now legendary and known all over the world. Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor. The founds of Hogwarts have shaped lives in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds for over a thousand years. But who were these legendary magic folk? They were ordinary people who did extraordinary things, things that all of us are capable of. Few though, take advantage of such opportunities. An old proverb states that a bunch of turkeys wanted to learn to fly, a nearby eagle agreed to teach them. After a days' worth of lessons, each turkey could fly, but they **walked** home. They wasted something that could have transformed their lives forever. _

_These four wizard folk weren't turkeys. They were eagles, ready to do something great. But everyone has a beginning, a story lost to history. Even the founders had a beginning..._

 _Gilded Mountains of Scottia late 900s A.D._

 _A mother's cry echoed through the grand castle of Ravenclaw as a very pregnant woman, the Queen gave birth. Handmaids busied about her, directed by the capable hand maid Mina. Dark brown hair and face drenched in sweat, the Queen was upon the verge of death, crying loudly in pain. Mina tuned it out as she positioned herself at the business end, waiting for another heir to the Ravenclaw throne. A squirming wet mass thrust out into her waiting arms, she wrapped it in a blanket and breathed a sigh of relief as it howled loudly._

 _"Wow, you've got your brother's lungs," she murmured, remembering previous births. She froze as she examined it more closely: it was a girl, not a son. The Queen recovered as the handmaids helped her staunch her bleeding and cleaned away the afterbirth. Mina approached her mistress._

 _"You have a wonderful daughter, a princess," Mina said, handing her a cooing baby girl._

 _The Queen's eyes radiated pure love as Redrik, King of the Ravenclaw clan entered the room. Cleaning the infant off, she showed the now sleeping baby to her broad shouldered husband._

 _"We have a princess," she said, worry in her eyes._

 _Redrik, a large burly man with flaming red hair, gazed at his daughter. As much as he loved her, a son would have been preferable. Still, a princess had her uses, and he would make sure she grew up to become a marriageable bride._

 _"What do you want to call her?" Redrik asked. He'd named their previous four sons, he felt that his wife should name her._

 _"Rowena, she'll grow up to be fair and beautiful, no name is better suited for a princess."_

 _All the more better to be marriageable, Redrik thought._

 _"Agreed, Princess Rowena Ravenclaw it is."_

* * *

 _Fenways of East Anglia_

 _Nobody flinched as a large, old, ragged old man was lead to a stake. His wand in pieces, betrayed by his own kind, Cyneburga Slytherin, aka Cyne the Terrible, was lead by a rowdy mob armed with pikes and torches. On top of a nearby hill, a three year old boy named Salazar and his father watched their uncle getting dragged away._

" _Remember son, the Muggles will never be as advanced as we are, remember that," Rorgburg said. "But they are our brothers and sisters. They didn't deserve what Cyne did to them."_

 _Against the morning dawn, hay was stacked around the stake as Cyneburg was tied to it. Gagged, he couldn't scream, curse, or do anything about his fate, even though Rorgburg was sure he would be cursing everything from God to the Muggles if he could._

 _"Don' orry, I on't," young Salazar hiss in Parseltongue as torches were readied nearby._

 _"Let's go, we've got work to do," Rorgburg said, leading Salazar away._

 _Behind them, flames lit the sky as the hay was licked by flame._

* * *

 _Forest Glades of Wales_

 _Five year old Helga watched, eyes big as dinner plates, as her father whipped up his famous Pepperup Potion. Designed to get rid of the chills, it had many other uses as well. As fast as her mom cut up lettuce, he chopped up a variety of ingredients, dumped them into the cauldron, and mixed them together over the small stove in their one room hut._

 _"You see Helga, we have the power to rebuke most disease, but we cannot use it because it is feared," he said, ruffling the locks on his blonde haired daughter affectionately._

 _She giggled, thrilled at the attention she was receiving from her father._

 _"It's not funny Helga," her mother interjected, bring a basket full of herbs into the small cottage. She paused, and listened intently to the surrounding woods. Her innately attuned ears picked up the sound of a witch hunting party nearby. "Time to go, let's move on to our next station."_

* * *

 _Godric's Hollow_

 _The small village cradled in the midst of the moors, with just one dirt road leading to it from London. Here was the residence of the Gryffindor family of Britannia. Dating all the way to pre-Roman times, it had a long and magical lustrous history, including King Arthur. But gradually, through war and other means, the number of family members had dwindled over the centuries until only one small family bore the name Gryffindor._

 _Sir Gryffindor, out in the nearby woods with a small retinue of fyrd man, sat down next to his small son. With a broad chest already for a boy his age, Godric Gryffindor was well on the path to look exactly like his father. He had a small bow in his hands and was shooting arrows towards a target._

 _"Not quite yet," Sir Gryffindor said. "But here is something for you. Goblin-made by Ragnuk, the finest goblin smelter in all of Britannia."_

 _It was a good sized sword, far too big for the boy to held. Rubies were wielded into the hilt, and the named Gryffindor had been carved into the handle. Godric's eyes grew big as he saw it. He held out his tiny hands for it._

 _"Not yet, until you are sixteen will you receive this, and only if you prove yourself worthy."_


	2. A Princess with Outbursts

**Welcome to Birth of a Future. Like, read, have fun, and follow. Offer constructive criticism. It'll only make this story better. Read on and enjoy!**

 **Birth of the Legend**

 **Chapter 1-Unlikely Beginnings**

Deep in the wind-swept and snowy hills, among the warring clans*, one could easily miss the small castle nestled on the coast at the top of a large cliff. But all the locals knew it's exact location. Here, ruled the Ravenclaw clan, and lived the most sought after woman in all of Scottia, Princess Rowena Ravenclaw. Whoever married her would punch their ticket into the upper echelons of power and wealth.

Now, the princess was in her bedroom, hidden away from her mad father and the intrigues of a warrior court. Princess Rowena of the Ravenclaw clan of Scottia faced-palmed her face into her hand for what seemed the thousandth time. For ten years, ten long years, she'd fought off suitor after suitor put up by her father. Now in her mid-20s, armed with a petite warrior figure, shoulder length black hair, unquestioned beauty, beautiful blue eyes, and still very single, things were getting worse by the day.

She tore away from the window, and wiped the tears threatening to seep out of her sky-blue eyes. She collapsed onto her bed made of the finest sheep wool that Scottia could provide, rolled onto her back, and gazed up at the ceiling. What was she to do? Perhaps this suitor would be like the last one. Just before their wedding night, he began acting strange, clucking like a chicken and trying to lay an egg. Then he disappeared the next morning, never to be seen again.

Rowena filed the comfortless thought away, rolled onto her stomach, and rested with her head on her hands, mundanely staring at the wall. How much longer could she go on like this?

Her eyes suddenly widened with alarm as she felt her curse awaken. She clenched her hands, feeling the power began to gather within her. The power if seen by others could get her run through with a sword. Rowena stumbled up, holding desperately to the bear poles that decorated her bed, and stumbled across her room to the opposite wall.

"Come on, just a little farther Rowena," she muttered to herself, pushing herself across the room to the walls, where she leaned against it, breathing heavily as sweat burst across her forehead.

She pushed on the wall, and it opened to reveal a dark passageway. She stumbled along it in complete darkness, turning here and there without the need of a torch. She finally collapsed in a large chamber, build long ago and forgotten by the castle's current inhabitants. She closed her eyelids, knowing it would do no good.

A range of colors as vast as the rainbow permeated Rowena's eyelids, but she ignored it. All around her, a mysterious force erupted from her body. Streamers of light erupted in all directions from her body and fizzled out against the stone walls. Rocks levitated and flew around her, whirling around the chamber and the Scottish princess. As her body was filled with spasms, Rowena dug her hands deeper into the soft floor until it finally stopped.

Breathing heavily, she blessed her warrior stamina as she dragged herself to a wall, and pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her hair a mess, and dirt now staining her blue dress, Rowena leaned heavily against the wall, completely drained. Dread erupted from the pit of her stomach and fill every pore of her being. Fear, an emotion she was unaccustomed to, threatened to choke her. In her mind's eye, she could see the result of someone witnessing her outburst. Branded as a whore of the banned old religion, the penalty for such was to be run through with a sword as decreed by her father.

She looked up at the ceiling, pushing the fear away. _Let fear be your guide, not your enemy,_ her mother used to tell her. Rowena needed to be strong. More time spent in the library, more time playing the part of a dutiful daughter, more escapades to the woods to learn control.

She dabbed at her eyes until she was ready to get on her feet, and made her way back to her bedroom. Rowena pushed the wall closed behind her and made it to the bed again.

"Rowena," came a soft voice from outside her door.

"Yes," Rowena said, hastily brushing the dust off of her dress, and straightening her hair.

"I have your dinner for you."

She opened the door to let her maids in.

Meanwhile, far away, concealed by a forest, was a burly man towering over six feet tall. Behind him were hundreds of nearly-naked warriors branded with blue paint and symbols, armed with every weapon imaginable.

"Take the castle," the man said to his men behind him. "But leave the princess unharmed."

* * *

Salazar Slytherin cursed as he pitched grain into the barn, the _Muggle_ way as he blithely reminded himself. _Muggles,_ they ruined everything, everything. They'd stolen his lands, his father, his wand, his friends, and finally his dignity. The only companions he had now were the adder snakes that he encountered in the course of his duties.

He shared a weird affinity with snakes. They both lived in the shadows, hated and feared by non-Magic and magic folk alike, doing their duties, without notice, without price. He peered at his fellow Muggle workers, and probed their minds like only he could. He could only sense blandness, the dullness of day to day work and the effect it had on their once vivid minds.

In some ways, he pitied his fellow servants, while hating those who enslaved them. Like him, they had no choice of their station. But unlike them, he was once Lord Salazar Slytherin, rightful ruler of the Fenways, and a pureblood wizard to boot. Yet somehow, they'd found his wand and smashed it.

Salazar puzzled over that fact for the millionth time: how'd they destroy what looks like to ordinary folk a stick? The men who attacked him in the dead of night had destroyed his wand first before tying him up. No wizards he knew of accompanied the force that had ransacked the Slytherin estate. He threw another pile of grain on the pile when he heard a voice from behind him.

 _Soldierssss. Manysss. Hidesss._

Salazar looked down a nearby road and saw nothing. But he dropped his hoe and ran into the woods.

* * *

Sir Godric Gryffindor of the hallow that bears his name, bridled his horse at the king's residence near the city of London. Harold Godwinson, the new king, had sent for the young knight two weeks previous. The last remaining heir of the mighty Gryffindor family empire, Godric was one of the richest men in all of England. His domain included rich farmland, vital trading routes, rich recruiting grounds, and prominent towns. His mansion even dwarfed that of the king, who'd only had the throne for less than a month.

Godric walked confidently down the path to the front door of the small shack that served as a temporary military headquarters. He was important, and he knew it. Importance came with opportunity, and enemies. Godric knew how to play, and he had played his cards well.

Able to mobilize a thousand men at a moment's notice, Godric knew the new king needed his support. Enemies from across the sea had the eye on his throne, and the only way they could take it was by force. As Godric approached the small house, two knights blocked his entrance.

"Who goes there?"

Godric puffed out his chest on which the Gryffindor lion-family crest was attached to his armor. "The king requested me."

"Sorry sir," one of the knights said. "In these times, you would've been William of Normandy or one of his spies."

Neither noticed Godric pull a small stick from the hilt in which his sword lie. He pointed it at each guard in turn.

" _Confundo_ ," Godric said.

Both guards gave a small start and their eyes went dreamy for a moment before clearing. Godric approached one of the stunned knights.

"What is Harold's battle plans?" he whispered over the knight's soldier. "Tell me, and William of Normandy will be most grateful."

The knight nodded, before Gryffindor began to speak in to him in a low whisper.

* * *

Deep in a Welsh forest, a hum broke the silence. Helga Hufflepuff, skipped along an invisible path towards her small cottage concealed deep inside the woods. Attached to her tattered brown dress were small bags that contained the essence of her practice that kept dozens of people alive.

She reached her cottage and pulled a small stick out of the folds of her dress. She waved it a the door, and it opened of it's own accord, as if a apparition had opened it for her. She bounded inside, another wave and the potion ingredients from the bags around her waist rose into the air and deposited themselves into the small clay bowls scattered around the small cabin.

Small blue fires frothed and boiled the ingredients into small poultices and liquids. Helga busied around, gathering up samples and storing them into small clay vials of her own making. She carefully corked each one and placed them in a small basket until it was full. Once Helga had finished, she bounded to a small box hidden by the crude fireplace, also crudely carved from an English oak tree, and opened it to reveal a black, hooded dress and shoes.

These were her most prized possessions, that which allowed her to make her rounds in peace-and beyond the eyes of magic hunters. She pulled out her wand.

 _"Accio Book,"_ Helga said.

Somewhere, far away in a castle, a book shot up from a library and zoomed out the window. Screams from its Muggle caretakers followed as it disappeared out of sight into the sky, promptly zooming into Helga's waiting hand. She sat down against the wall, and eagerly devoured it's pages.

Little did she know who was coming to her doorstep. One of them could speak with snakes. The others were armed with pitchforks, scythes, swords, and torches.

 **A little background. Around the time Hogwarts was founded, England was invaded and conquered at least four times, ending in the Norman Invasion in 1066. Wales was repeatedly invaded by various powers through this time, and in a constant state of turmoil until the 1400s. Scotland was split in half by the Scottia and Pict tribes, which were in turn ruled by clans vying for power.**


	3. Rape of A Castle

**So, the prologue or introduction to this story. As I develop each story, I end up revising it a few times, until the fourth and fifth chapter. So, expect it to change a couple more times.**

Chapter 2-Rape of a Castle

"The most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found a way out of those depths."

-Elizabeth Kuber-Ross

Rowena was asleep when something woke her up. Something was wrong, very wrong. She could feel it deep in her bones. She grabbed a dagger she always slept with, and slipped from underneath the sheepskin covers. She crept in her sleeveless dark blue nightdress to her barred window and looked out. Squinting into the darkness, she froze. The silhouettes in the distance told her all she needed to know. Rowena raced to sound the alarms.

"Invasin'," she shouted, shaking the guards awake.

Lights flickered on in the castle, and guards began gathering on the upper levels. Many of them gave her lustful looks, but she ignored them. _I'll punish them later, not now._ Rowena raced from level to level, shaking guards awake, lighting torches and unlocking weapon caches.

"Guards head towards the royal quarters," she ordered, as a legion of them raced by her.

Rowena had claimed the highest tower as her own because she hated her family. It offerred seclusion from the intriques and tauntings of her court. But her family remained on the ground floor. She reached the bottom floor and turned off a staircase, when a nearly-naked man, execpt for blue paint and wearing a loincloth, stepped in front of her.

"There she is,"one of them yelled. "Get her."

One of the men lunged at her, but Rowena was faster. She swiped the man across the face with her dagger, and kicked him in the crouch. Another kick, and he landed on his compatriots, causing them to tumble down the stairs. Several of the guards pushed in front of her.

"Hurry Princess, back to your room," one of them yelled.

Spinning on her heel, Rowena nearly tripped over the hem of her nightgown.

"Seriously, stupid thing," she muttered mutinously. She slashed the hem of her gown with her dagger, creating a rough slit that exposed her lower legs. She broke into a sprint, running twice as fast.

Hand-to-hand combat and metal on metal weapons now filled the castle. The cries of wounded and dying men threw pinpricks at her heart. Rowena had heard about battles, but never been near one.

A man jumped out in front of her. Rowena realized she was running to fast to do much. She braced herself-

BANG!

The man flew into the wall and slumped to the ground, uncosicous. For once, Rowena blessed her mysterious curse, but she didn't stop moving. She got to her room and bolted the hard wooden door shut. Impacts on the other side told her the men had gotten past the guards. Pangs of grief threatened to encircle her heart, but Rowena pushed it away. She didn't have time. Her face was full of fury, and concentration. Her curse, aroused by her anger and the action around her, was trying to get out again. _So soon...ENOUGH!_ A lightning bolt escaped from her back and struck the stairway behind her. Dozens of her pursuers halted in mid-stride, their skeletons illuminated for everyone to see. Rowena made it to her room, and slammed the door shut, bolting it behind her.

The door was locked to the rock by iron bolts sunk deep that had been expensively imported from England. The hardest wood that could be found had been cut down and brought to the Ravenclaw clan from the Scottia mountains. The door was them lathered with pine resin, then set on fire just barely enough to harden it towards the consistency of charcoal. It was doing it's job, but not for much longer.

Rowena pushed open the secret passageway, then raced over to her wardrobe. She grab a bunch of her clothes, and threw them over her shoulder. She emptied it, until she found a dark traveling dress that came with a parka for the rain. Rowena changed at top speed out of her nightgown and into the traveling dress. She threw the nightgown aside onto the other clothes on the floor, and then grabbed a small vial hidden under her bed. A allowance, carefully squirreled away from her father's coffers.

She reached for a torch on the wall, which came alive as soon as she touched it. Ignoring that which would've normally freaked her out, looked at her room, with all of it's bookcases, the books that had kept her company, the wooden sword that had been her first training, and the mallet she'd used to knock out a suitor with. With renewed determination, she threw the torch onto her bed and fled into the night.

Several hours later, near the Ravenclaw stables, a piece of earth began to shift. Large enough to admit a slender person, it rose just a little bit and a pair of blue eyes peaked out at the night. Scanning in every direction, they seemed to deem it safe. Rowena pushed the trapdoor up all the way, and emerged into the night. Her hair was unmade and her dress was shaded with dirt, but she didn't notice.

She ran into the Ravenclaw royal stables, which mericfully hadn't been overrun yet. It had been built carefully, deep in the woods, and the passagway dug from the castle for a time just like this, then forgotten. But not by Rowena. Few things ever escaped her notice.

Rowena carefully peaked inside. Five horses, the best breeds that could be found, were still in their stalls. As Rowena carefully tiptoed to her horse, the dam holding back her emotions in her chest broke. She slumped against the wall of the stables, as her legs turned to mud, tears turning her cheeks a dark, blotchy red. It seemed to go on for hours until she finally managed to regain her composure.

As she lead Eagle out, her horse nudged her, seeming to sense the distress she was under. She gently stroked her mount as she lead him out into the woods. She saddled* him and put on the reins.

"Shhhh," she cooed to him, trying to settle him down before their journey-perhaps final-south.

About an hour later, Rowena came to a rise, deep in the Scottish woods, far enough for her to feel safe from her pursuers. She stopped, and slowed Eagle to a trot, cresting the rise. On the edge of an ancient ring of stones, she finally looked northward for the first time.

Fires were still raging in the vicnity of where she knew the Ravenclaw clan once lived. Smoke billowed high into the sky, illuminated by a full moon on this night. It dawned on her. The kingdom was now hers. The last remaining Ravenclaw of the royal line. The fate of her father and brother: most likely slain, the castle gone. The survivors scattered among the hills. She couldn't turn her back on her people, her gut told her that. But her practical head told her to head south and never return. What was there left for her here?

"Take one look Eagle, we'll never see this place again."

 _Where can I go? Can I ever retake my kingdom? Should I even try?_ Rowena puzzled and puzzled. Freedom was intoxicating to her. Freedom from royality, from expectations, forced marriage, and fielding a forced ran through a not too long list of her father's allies. Most were warrior chieftians...and all of them had tried to marry her one way or another. _Muirhead, Oliphant, Rose, Ogilvy, Gryffindor...Gryffindor?_ An image of the lion crest came into her mind. She had been but a wee little lady when Sir Gryffindor visited the Ravenclaw clan. _And he's Anglo-Saxon, not a chieftain enslaved to his underbelly,_ she thought, a tinge of hatred invading her grieving heart.

Gryffindor had lands abutting the Scottia-Angleland border. Her father and Sir Gryffindor had negogiated a treaty between them and both had kept it faithfullly. _Would he prove hospitable to a kingdom-less princess? What do I have to lose._ Rowena, pulled her hood up over her head as a cool breeze picked up, ruffling the trees around the lonely princess. _First the village of Bernicia, supplies, then the ancient Viking settlement of York, Godric's Hallow. Trip time, five, six days._

Rowena turned her back on her lost kingdom, southward. She kicked her horses sides and Eagle galloped off into the dark woods.

* _I'm not 100% sure whether or not Scottia had saddles at this point, an research failed to turn up a definite anwser. The Romans and earlier races had them, so it's not hard to imagine that a design would've made it's way into the Scottish highlands by the time of the Founders._


	4. York

**The description of York is actually based on a 14th century inscription found in a book dating from the time period. I adapted the shape of the city and eliminated the buildings that Wikipedia said weren't standing in the 9th century.**

Chapter 3-York

"Courage-a prefect sense of the measure of danger, and a mental willingness to endure it."-William T. Sherman, US General

Rowena pulled the hood down to cover the bangs of her black hair. Two days of riding had lead her to her second destination, York. It was now the capital of the northern Anglo-Saxon region and a major poltical and economic was also the city from which raids lead by Saxon warlords had ravaged the Ravenclaw clans. Rowena still shudderred inwardly though, as her family and the city's interactions hadn't been pretty.

The last time Ravenclaw royality had visited, it wasn't pretty. Her ancestor Rudric from some 400 years previous had caught an Saxon force outside the city and annihilated it. The ensuing slaughter had been so great that the local Saxon kings and lords never ceased to harass her family since. Only when the Vikings came did a time of peace happen. Then, some 50 years before Rowena's arrival, the Saxons finally threw off the Viking yoke and took York back. The Gryffindor family then received the titles to much of the land in the area. Her grandfather then struck a treaty with the Gryffindors and the mutual raids had finally ceased.

Rowena briefly let a thought that had been nudging her for the last two days come before her brain. The great Sir Gryffindor had recently died, leaving an young heir who never met any of her family. Would this heir be receptive to harbor a fugitive princess? Would he force her to marry him? Her beauty had been renowned, and Rowena was vividly aware of the effect she had on men. She'd changed her opinion of Anglo-Saxons in the last few days, having heard of them from people she'd met along the way. _He'll probaby be like any other Saxon lord. Eager to spread his libido around as far as he possibly can,_ she thought. _But that's all I need. By the time he realizes he'd been had, I'll be long gone with enough supplies to last me a year._

York didn't look like what her family's oral histories had described. The river was the main street of the capital. Churchs and monastaries were scattered here and there, dominating the city's skyline, with the stone church at the on the northern end of town the largest. Inbetween the monastaries were houses and small shops, from which goods were made, sold, and distributed to the boats. Wharfs lined the riverbank, the lifeblood of the city, and boats were floating silently in the two rivers.

It was late on a moonless night, and only the occasional torch disturbed the nearly pitch dark streets. A dark hooded figure, darted from place to place in the densely packed houses and streets. The darkness didn't bother Rowena, it was her ally. All warrior men in the Ravenclaw clan spent weeks training in the woods at night, with obstacles and their fellow warriors trying to scare them. Rowena had been tagging along on these expeditions for years.

The princess came to a wooden bridge that crossed the Ouse, and darted across it, her eyes and ears alert to any sound. None came, execpt the cold breeze coming in from the east. It made her cloak whip about her as she ran, the only sound to alert anyone that there was a former princess in their presence. _Why is this city so quiet?,_ she thought.

Rowena leaned against a building, knowing what this meant. With no one out and about, and all the doors she'd dare try bolted shut, it would mean sleeping on the ground again without any new supplies for the third straight day. She was about to turn and head north back to her horse hidden in a grove of trees to the north, but stopped when she heard a moaning.

Her hand slid slowly to the dagger on her hip, although she preferred her sword strapped to her back. The wailing tore a gap in her heart, full of pain, misery, and suffering. Involuntarily she made her way towards the sound, dodging between houses until she came to a small square.

Against a shop was a large wooden pen just large enough to hold a couple of horse. But locked inside, guant, and shrunken from lack of nourishment, was a _woman._ Rowena flinched at the sight of her. She knew about the slave trade in England*, but had never seen it herself. The woman only had a thin, torn dirty brown dress on, her golden blonde hair hadn't been combed in weeks, her brown eyes were bloodshot and filled with sorrow, and she was caked with dirt. Though it was dark, Rowena recognized the glistening red streaks of blood on her back.

Rowena strode along the edges of the square, keeping out of sight until she came to the pen. It smelled and so did the woman, but Rowena ignored it. She tapped her dagger on the pen's wooden bars and backed into the shadows _._ The woman stopped moaning, and Rowena heard _Welsh. How did a Welsh slave survive the 400 mile jounrey north and survive?_

Rowena sorted out which tongue to use. Due to her large kingdom, the best scribes had been hired to teach her. She knew five languages: Celtic scottish, Pictish (Gaelic), Welsh, Viking/Norman, and the northern Anglo-Saxon tongue. She rarely used Welsh though, and wondered whether she could still speak it at all.

"Look at me," she said to the woman in Welsh.

The women stopped moaning, and jolted up with shocked brown eyes meeting crystal-blue ones. Rowena was almost invisible, execpt for her face.

"If you want to live, you'll have to come with me," she whispered. "No questions."

The women nodded, still very surprised. _What choice does she have?_ Rowena cut through the ropes and opened the cage. It squeaked louder than she would've liked, but she grabbed the women and sprinted into the darkness of the shadows. _What am I thinking?_ Rowena chided. She could barely provide for herself, let another mouth to feed at this point in time. She cursed as she realized she acted as she had been taught to, act first, think along the way.

This slave would slow her down. Rowena also knew that she still had some 300 miles to go until she reached Gryffindor's domain. Inbetween that lie villages, farms, and areas that are heavily wooded, with many of them roamed by bandits. Rowena looked at the battered and beaten woman behind her, despite her practical mind marshaling its full force against her, she couldn't ignore her heart.

When they'd reached a small grove of trees south of town, Rowena finally stopped and leaned against a tree, exhausted. The woman was even more so, but she continued to stare at her savior with disblief in her eyes.

"Who are you?" the woman asked with wonder.

Rowena thought fast. She couldn't really trust this woman, could she?

"I'm Rowena of York," she invented in her rough Welsh. "The daugther of a merchant. He speaks many languages."

"Helga Hufflepuff of-"

"Wales, I know," Rowena cut her off, recovering her breath. "How'd you survive such a journey to here?"

"I don't know," Helga said, completely honest. A look of fright took over her face. "Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Rowena asked, perplexed.

"The Vikings, they just invaded," Helga said. "A messenger came from them demanding the surrender of the city."

Rowena froze, her heart pounding. If an army demanded the surrender of a city, it was usually just _outside the city._

"Did they say where or how large this army is?" Rowena pressed, anxious for more information.

"To the east and south," Helga replied. "They defeated all the local forces yesterday. The one who claimed ownership of me was among the fallen."

Rowena began pacing, no longer exhausted. She had to be wise in her next decision and she had to think fast. Helga watched the black-haired warrior with wide eyes, wonderment and marvel clouding every inch of her face. Rowena climbed a small tree and what she saw sank her heart. A small gang of men, a scouting party most likely, coming their direction. Right on cue Rowena heard voices speaking in a Viking language. Rowena cursed under her breath in Gaelic before switching to Welsh again.

"Quiet," she said to Helga.

She could only catch snippets due to the difference of the language.

"-hostages"

"-kill-"

"battle-"

"Harald Hadrada"

Rowena drew the sword from her back and held it at her side. Helga's eyes widened in disbelief and shock. This mystery woman not only knew how to completely hide at night, but could see through pitch darkness, understood multiple languages, could ride a horse, run like the wind, and now wield a sword! Who is this?

"Are you a merchant?" Helga in a quiet whisper. The tone in her voice made Rowena aware that she'd just been found out.

Rowena fidgeted awkwardly.

"No, I'm actually Scottia," she replied. "I'm a warrior princess, a warrior without a home."

Helga's eyes softened, as she knew the pain that Rowena must be feeling.

"Let's go," Rowena said. "North."

She stepped out and right in front of two burly Viking warriors. _WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TODAY?!_

"Were are we-"

Helga's voice faded into a choke of terror.

"Well...have...hear?" Rowena heard.

"Stay away," she said in Scottia.

"Foreign...little...bird.."

"Going...to...have...fun..."

The warrior princess didn't wait. She kicked some dirt from the ground into the faces of the Viking warriors. Both immediately covered their eyes, cursing in a multitude of various languages. Rowena grabbed Helga's hand and they ran for it, only to run into two more Viking warriors a few minutes later. Beyond them both women could see the edge of the town-and freedom. The two men before them were muscular and tall, covered with furs and chain mail, and were armed with Danish battleaxes.

Rowena assumed a fighting stance as they approached while Helga hid behind a nearby tree, her eyes peeking out, watching Rowena fearfully. The two Viking soldiers lunged at her from both sides. Rowena ducked between the two of them, and around to the back of one of the soldiers. She slashed one across the back of the knee and added another cut where the chain mail ceased to cover the man's sword arm. The man's foot caught in a tree root and he did a face-plant straight at Rowena's feet. _That's right, bow to Her Highness the Warrior._

The other came in flaying like a tree flapping in the wind, twice as mad at seeing his companion disabled so easily. Rowena tried the same manuver, but the man stayed with her and sword met Danish battleax. The man's higher weight and power nearly pulled the sword out of Rowena's hands. Though it felt as if her arms were being pull out of their socket, the princess held on with all of her might. _One-on-one, exploit the enemy. Show no fear, show no pain, show no mercy,_ her father's hated voice whispered in the back of her head. _He's finally useful for once._

Rowena focused and found the warrior's weakness. She positioned herself right in front of a tree. The warrior came flaying at her again and Rowena waited until it was about to split her in two-she twirled out of the way. The Danish battleax sank deep into the stump, nearly splitting it in two. Rowena swung at her attacker, but the warrior abandoned his battleax and pulled out a Viking sword. Rowena eyed it with worry: many of these had captured in the previous Viking raids of 100 years before her time. All of her clan's swords were based off of the design. In combat, it had been known to break the locals' swords and axes at the hilt, and drive through chain mail armor.

Rowena drove in and the man parried the blow. She leapt into the air, threw her sword above her, and grabbed the man's arm as she did so. As she twisted sideways in mid-air, she gripped the skin on his forearm, using her body as leverage, and pulled. He screamed in pain, but recovered so quickly he flung Rowena off of him. She landed on a hard patch of ground, and her sword clattered away into the darkness. The man arose and stalked her, a look of triumph on his face. Rowena had heard what victorious men had done with the women they'd captured, and she didn't want to become one of them. For once fear, an unnatural feeling for a warrior princess, crept into her stomach. Rowena crawled backwards, feeling for any sign of something metal.

The man crooked an evil smile. The Viking came until he stood over the helpless Scot. He brought his sword down as Rowena's hands felt something cold and hard.

* * *

Helga leaned against a tree, arms folded, eyes widened, shivering not from cold, but shock. The sight of the lifeless Viking warrior on the ground had shook her. She was supposed to help heal the body, not see them killed by another. Yet the mysterious girl had just saved her life, and perhaps saved her sexual purity as well.

Rowena came back into the small clearing where they'd fled too. She had wiped the blood off of her sword and rinsed it in the river. She placed it back into it's sheath underneath her cloak.

"Did you really have to hurt them?" Helga asked, her question lame sounding even as she said it.

Rowena's eyes filled with a fire that frigthened Helga.

"'Did I hurt them'?" Rowena repeated, mockingly. She pulled a small piece of parchment out of a pocket deep in her cloak and threw it at Helga. "The kings of East Anglia tried that approach. It got them slaughtered by the Vikings."

Helga puzzled at the half-insult Rowena had just thrown her way. What did she mean by that? Rowena's eyes found Helga again, and perceived the lack of understanding in the naïve young Welsh woman. Rowena's heart filled with compassion on this woman, who was so young to have seen so much in so little time. In the wilds of Scottia, one never did have that luxury.

"Sorry Helga, but that's the world we live in right now," Rowena said grimly, pressing some cloth against her upper left arm. "Right now, everything is in chaos. The loss of my home is testament to that."

"What happened?" Helga asked in a tender voice.

Rowena looked at this young Welsh woman again. Despite being raised to be suspicious of others, she couldn't help but trust this strange Welsh woman. Helga could be a friend, but that required trust, something that was not supposed to be handed out like candy. Still, someone needed to know other than just her.

"Fine," the princess gave in.

It took about fifteen minutes for Rowena to finish her story, her voice breaking at certain intervals. Helga's eyes widened with each telling of the story, her innocence slowly tearing away. Helga noticed Rowena wincing. She'd seen it before on many of her patients. Even this mysterious stoic warrior princess, who she could see was trying to conceal any weakness, couldn't hide this.

"I'm a healer," Helga said, choosing her words carefully. "My father was a doctor. He taught me how to mix medicines and treat patients."

"After you wash in the river," Rowena said, staring at Helga's dirty hands. "Let's also tend to your bloody back."

Helga ran towards the River Ousse while Rowena slupped against a tree stump, breathing heavily. Sometime later, Helga worked to bandage and clean Rowena's battleax wound. Rowena sighed, wincing every now and then as the Welsh doctor pushed some sort of greenish mixture into the wound on her left arm. Helga was actually a very pretty woman, Rowena noted. Helga's bath had revealed a young woman with radiant blonde hair, soft brown eyes, and sun-bronzed skin. Rowena was sure that now not only she'd have to fight off suitors gunning for her, but also for her new traveling companion as well. Rowena had liked some men in the past, but they always had one eye on her, and the other on her father's throne.

For the first time, Rowena pulled off of her hood, exposing her thick black hair. Where Helga had been bronzed by hours of wandering the woods for medical ingredients in the sun, Rowena was pure white, the product of wearing hoods to escape to the nearby woods so she could train outside the view of her father. Helga noticed that she seemed to glow in the dark in the absence of the moon. Once Helga was done, Rowena helped treat her whipped back. Thankfully it was devoid of any major signs of infection and it looked like it had healed rather quickly, which puzzled Rowena. But she dismissed it: stranger things had happened.

"Done," Helga said, wrapping some cloth she'd 'borrowed' from a nearby shop around the wound. "We'll have to clean it regularly to keep any infection."

"So, now what?" Helga asked, taking a seat next to the princess.

Rowena thought, two basic insticits at war in her brain. Her warrior training against her compassionate side. She could leave Helga and escape-but someting kept her from doing that. Having two greatly diminshed her chance of escaping to Godric's Hallow, but...something told her that was a bad idea. Helga had no chance in this country without her and it didn't seem right to abandon her just like that.

"I'm heading towards Wales," Rowena said. "You're welcome to join me."

"Really?" Helga said, a little too eager.

"Under three conditions," Rowena interrupted. "You don't say a word tomorrow while we are in York, you let me do most of the talking while we are traveling, and take my advice and do it without arguing."

Hegla reeled a little bit, hesitant to agree to such terms.

"Helga, you wouldn't last a day around here without me," Rowena said. "I'm a warrior. We are trained to operate by ourselves in enemy country. It's the only way to get you back to Wales safely that I know."

Helga nodded, fully understanding. She couldn't understand the local languages around here anyways.

"We'll go to north of town we're I've set up camp, get a few hours of sleep," Rowena said.

"Why are we going back to York?" Helga inquired, rather timidly.

"Do not be afraid to ask me questions," Rowena corrected rather gruffly. "This army you mentioned is probably camped just south of here. We'd walk right into a trap if we tried to bypass at night. I need to get the army's despositions in the we'll need more supplies as well."

Rowena began to walk north with Helga on her heels.

"If we are caught or recongized as abnormal, it will the end of us," Rowena added.

Helga felt a chill go down her spine.

* _The reference to East Anglia was a Viking invasion 200 years before the founders. The Vikings landed in East Anglia, who's king gave them land and horses instead of fighting them. Later, the Vikings killed him anyway. Slavery was common during this time in the British isles. It_ 's _estimated that around 10% of the population was enslaved at this time. It wasn't until the 1200s that slavery of fellow Brits in this form was abolished, and even then, it wasn't fully done away with in all of it's forms until the 1850s._


	5. Stamford Bridge

**I've been having so much fun building these girls' personalities and watching them grow together. One area I'm looking to expand on is the way Helga's and Rowena's personalities interact. We've already seen much of it, but there's more to come.**

Chapter 4-Stamford Bridge

 **"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."-Ralph Waldo Emerson**

Helga was awoken the next day to a new change of clothes, lots of new food, and an ashen faced Rowena Ravenclaw, already ready to go in a dark green cloak and dress.

"Where did you get all of this?"

"Uh," she said, exhausted and somewhat panicked. "I made an early morning trip to town."

Helga picked up an apple and looked at it closely. It had been recently picked and harvested not too long before. Helga knew where she came from that these weren't sold at a pittance.

"Did you buy these?" Helga asked, holding out the apple.

"Of course I did," Rowena said, digging into a bowl of fresh bread.

Helga bit into the apple and soon had devoured several of them.

"Most of them," Rowena said through a mouthful of bread.

Helga stopped mid-bite, wondering if _all_ of the supplies Rowena had showed up with this morning were stolen. She reluctantly pushed it aside for the time being: she'd find someway to repay the people here. She wouldn't be able to do anything about it if she was dead or enslaved again.

"You look horrible," Helga finally said. "What's wrong?"

Rowena finished off her last apple and threw the core into the River Ousse.

"There are two armies in the area," she said.

" _ **Two!"**_ Helga choked out.

"Yes, two," Rowena said. "And they've blocked the only way for us out of here."

She pulled a map out of her pocket and smoothed it out. It had writing in a language that Helga, didn't understand, but the Welsh healer could see the problem. Rowena took a piece of charcoal from their campfire the night before and drew two large shapes on it. It blocked all the main roads leading in and out of York. As Rowena illustrated, the gravity of the situation finally set in on Helga.

"The majority of both are around York," Rowena said. "However, they appear to not have too many to the east of the city. We'll skirt the main road, head through the forest, and then double back southwest to Little Hangleton here. There should only be a light smattering of forces and raiding parties in our way."

Helga looked at the map, recalling how she used to ditch witch-hunting mobs in the woods, until her luck finally ran out. She showed Rowena the areas without roads.

"This wooded area will be our ally," she said. "We'll be dressed in green and move quickly from bush to bush. With any luck we'll be out of here before anyone realizes we were here."

"Are you sure?" Rowena queried.

"Positive," Helga replied, staring at the map.

"Fine," Rowena said, altering their trajectory so that it passed farther away from the road, and deeper into the woods.

Three hours later, in the middle of the morning, Rowena and Helga began their attempted escape from the York area. This was an extremely tricky operation, which sounded insane. With Helga hiding near the River Ousse, Rowena rode her beloved horse, Eagle through the lines of soldiers southward to a safe point. For Helga, it seemed like an eternity. Why couldn't they have just gone together? The relief she felt when Rowena returned that night on foot was palpatable.

But she brought horrible news.

"Turns out that it's that new king who's leading the Anglo-Saxon army," Rowena said, now late at night, a small smokeless fire illuminating their faces. "We should've gone yesterday, together. The whole of the Saxon army just caught up with him, including his elite troops. He must be taking this Viking invasion very seriously."

Helga nodded, leaning against a tree trunk, but didn't press the warrior princess any furthur on it. Rowena's pride was already wounded enough, and the wound from her round with the Viking was making it difficult for her to maintain full battle ability. It was healing, but the left arm wouldn't be the same for at least another month.

"They are preparing for battle, tomorrow they'll go to battle," she said.

"Then we make a break for it while they are fighting each other," Helga said. "Look, I've lived in the woods my entire life. Take some of the pressure off of yourself. I can manage."

Dawn came sooner than either woman would've liked. They rose just in time to finish off the last of the stolen supplies and Rowena splashed water on their small breakfast fire. Both prepped for the day ahead when suddenly Rowena grabbed her dagger and slashed a rip in the hem of her dress.

"What are you doing that for?" Helga asked.

"Making it easier to run faster," Rowena said.

"Hurry, do it to mine."

Five minutes later, both women were ready for the task ahead. The first hour was uneventful for either of them. At first they dashed from bush to bush, but began to relax as the porpurted danger failed to materialize. Eventually, they entered a clearing when they heard the sounds of metal on metal. Rowena pulled Helga away, deeper into the forest until they came to chasm in the root of a tree.

"Why are men so argressive and destructive?" Helga asked, sobbing into Rowena' chest. "They kill each other just for...for...nothing."

Rowena shook her head, having wondered the same question many a time. In the end, she just threw it aside. She'd seen men and even women who could be so gentle one night, would then ride out, slay innocent civilians and boast about it for the rest of their lives. Exploits like that were often boasted of for years after the terrible events took place. Even some of her ancestors were remembered not for how they ruled, but their raids and exploits. In a cutthroat world of only winners and losers, all you had was who you were and one focus: survival.

"Helga, I..." Rowena went silent. What could she say to a woman who had a heart like that of Helga's? With her upbringing and what she had done in her life, how could she comfort a woman like Hegla? But she decided to ry.

"Helga," she said, stopping at a log in the forest."Look, you have a heart of gold that is..pure."

"Really?" Helga said, atonished. Even though she'd only known Rowena for only two days, something like this was completely unexpected from the tough warrior.

"Helga, you can't lose faith, not everyone is like this, most aren't like this," she said. "The world needs people like you."

She looked away from the innocent but valiant blonde. This girl was going to have to grow up fast, but the Scottish warrior had grown fond more than she would like to admit of the innocence and the unwavering faith Helga maintained in humanity. She didn't Helga to lose that which made her unique.

"Helga, my hands aren't the cleanest-"

Suddenly, a sensation she wasn't used to happened. Helga hugged her fiercely. Rowena resisted the urge to put her in a strangehold: personal touch was never part of her family life.

"Thanks Rowena," Helga said. "Don't worry about it. I know, you were raised a warrior first and a human being second. Yet you choose not to let it define who you are or what you stand for."

"Okay, let's go."

Helga let go of Rowena and the two slipped furthur into the woods. The sun steadily rose until it was nearly noon. By Rowena's definition, they should nearly be out of danger by now. She pulled the map out and pinpointed their location: the next village was labeled Stamford. The only major bridge in the area was close to the area as well.

Helga nearly stepped out of the woods and into the sunlight when Rowena pulled her back into the cover of the trees and covered Helga's eyes. Ahead of them were men, hundreds perhaps thousands of them streaming across that very bridge Rowena had mentioned earlier. They were covered in armor and carrying weapons. Some of them had blood on them and bodies were lying lifeless on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Helga asked.

"Wrong way," Rowena said, pulling her into the woods and letting her go. "Don't look out there. You'll never get it out of your mind."

"Did we take _another_ wrong way?" Helga asked, now with a sullen look on her face.

"No, we just need to head east and then south again until we reach a small village called Little Hangleton," Rowena said, re-consulting the map. "That's where I hid Eagle. I had hoped to avoid the darkest part of the forest though. We'll have to make our way through it until we reach the village."

Rowena steered Helga away and then snuck away from what was happening-something Helga didn't need to know.

"How much-"

Suddenly hoods were thrust over their faces. Both girls screamed as they did but were quickly restrain. Rowena managed to resist for a while longer than Helga before they were overwhelmed. Someone backhanded Rowena and she passed out.

* * *

Sometime later, Rowena's eyes finally flickered open. Her head ached and she was a little drowsy. As things came into view, her heart dropped into her stomach. Helga was tied to a tree, as was she. The sun was now low in the sky, indicating she'd been out for six or seven hours, possibly more. She struggled to untie the knots but they were done well. Her trusty sword and dagger were also gone as well.

"Helga," Rowena whispered.

Helga's head snapped up and she looked at Rowena with frightened eyes.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," she said. "One minute I was walking and then.."

"Sir Godric," said a male voice farthur off. "We found some prisoners in the woods."

"Prisoners, surely you jest," said a deep, but authoritative voice. "Nearly all of the Vikings are dead and the rest have left. Release them immediately."

"No, come and see, we think you'll change your mind," another masculine voice said.

"Fine, I'll humor you," the deeper voice said.

"I have an idea Rowena," Helga said in an urgent whisper. "Here it is..."

Out of the woods came four ordinary soldiers dressed in chainmale and carrying swords, but the other was a knight. Both Helga and Rowena guessed that he was very wealthy based on the quality of his clothing and the newness of his armor. A image of a large lion was emblazoned on his chest armor, he had a red beard, cropped red hair, and he carried a rubied sword at his hip. Sir Godric Gryffindor wasn't impressed at all. His soldiers had merely captured a couple of local women for sport. The four soldiers untied them, grabbed an arm each, and hauled them up so that the lord could view them more closely. Helga noticed a rather steep ravine to her left, hidden behind a large bush. Perhaps it would come in handy.

Godric quickly reconsidered the term of 'local women'. Both didn't look like it at all. Both were actually quite pretty, one with blonde hair and the other with black hair. One had the face of a peasant, but the other was different. The one with black hair had the face of a warrior, a battle-hardened soldier. When one had seen enough action, they tended to recognize others who that a similar experience. She stared back at him with hatred and defiance burning behind her eyes.

"Where'd you get them?" he asked from horseback.

"Running through the forests," one of them said. "Think we'll have a go at 'em.."

It all happened in a couple of seconds. Suddenly both men holding the defiant woman were down, knocked out. Just as quickly, Helga threw herself down a deep ravine hidden behind some bushes, dragging her would-be captors with her. Suddenly, Godric's horse was slashed from behind and it bolted, throwing the young knight to the ground. Stars shimmered before his eyes, as someone heaved him up and placed a blade to his throat.

Suddenly the blonde-haired woman came racing up from the ravine, completely free of her restraint, some blonde hair askew, but lacking her two bodyguards. Godric was puzzled: how she'd get away so cleanly? He looked and felt long hair brushing against his scalp. The woman's face was now clearly in full view. She was _gorgeous._ But that illusion quickly passed as he realized that she now had a dagger to his throat.

She spoke in a language that Godric didn't fully understand. The blonde-haired woman replied back in the same language. Godric didn't speak much Welsh, but he knew enough to get their names: Helga and Rewona. Godric tried to make a move to get out of the headlock, but Rewona kicked him in the front and brought him to his knees.

"One scream," she whispered into his ear, changing languages. "I'll make sure it'll be your last."

 _Who is this woman?_ Godric thought, confused. She could speak multiple languages and had the gall to threaten a royal knight with decapictation. The locals had a name for such wild women: she-wolf*, after the vicious wolves that had once terrized Angland centuries ago. This was a she-wolf woman, probably from the wilds of the Welsh-English border, he thought.

The woman called Helga carried some rope over to the one called Rewona, which she used to tighly bind his hands while Helga did his feet. Rewona dropped him to the ground.

"That was easy," Helga said, amazed. "Thanks for doing it my way."

"Not at all, it was a brilliant idea," Rowena said.

"What about him?" Helga asked, pointing to the knight on the ground. "He's a noble. Perhaps he can help us."

Rowena looked at Godric again, wondering if Helga could also be right on this point.

"Personally I think we should just run," Rowena said. "They treated their own countrywomen as vermin, who knows what might happen if we stay or harm our guest."

Meanwhile, on the ground, Godric was wondering if they were planning on how to kill him. His Welsh was rusty at best, but they were speaking too fast for him to understand what they were saying. Suddenly, a dagger was thrown in front of his face, within the grasp of his bound hands. He looked up to see the women walking quickly away. Rewona stopped to pick a sword off of one of the two uncoscious soldiers and they disappeared into the woods.

Godric lay on the ground, insides burning with humialition. He'd just been upended by women of all things. How he was going to get out of being weakened by this incident was anyone's guess. He began to work the dagger between his bonds.

* * *

Night had fallen when the duo reached the village of Little Hangleton. They paused only briefly to grab a bite to eat at a local inn, and purchase another horse with some money Helga was sure Rowena had stolen in York. Near a small creek in the woods just outside the village, they set up camp.

Two small mats were rolled out and soon both women were under the covers. Exhausted from the two day espacade and near death experience, neither girl spoke much as sleep overtook them. They weren't just acqaitances anymore. A new bond had form between the two of them, a bridge of fire and ice.

 _Well,_ Rowena thought before falling into the welcoming arms of darkness. _Now we're friends. I care about her, now I have to protect her. I'd better do a better job than what I did for my people._

She checked inward on her curse. It had been dormant for the last few days, a dangerous sign from a sleeping volcano. Rowena felt nothing, no pooling of energy, no urges of something from within trying to get out. She nudged the worry aside: if something went wrong she'd just excuse herself claiming she needed to heed the call of nature.

 _Who knew I'd befriend a warrior princess,_ Helga thought. _She really does have a heart of gold underneath that tough exterior. One just needs to see beyond what people are raised to be to see who they truly are._

Both girls quickly fell asleep.

Long after Rowena had fallen asleep, Helga's eyes opened. From within her dress she drew a small stick. Thankfully it had survived imprisonment, the dangers of the past three days, and the escape from Sir Godric. She threw a look at Rowena, wondering if she should use a memory charm on her in the future. But something held her back from completing the thought. She could sense some sort of power residing within the girl, a storm cacooned within.

Helga pondered, wondering if her magical senses were just kicking into overdrive. The power source had been growing...if it was what she thought it was, Rowena could be one of the most powerful witches ever. But why hadn't she mentioned anything about it? Helga was hesitant to pry more information out of the princess about it: Helga could sense another force underlying the warrior mentality. What it was she didn't know, but it was mysterious and dying to be pealed away. She also felt that this warrior princess, nobody truly knew her.

After some thought, she decided to shelve using any magic for the time being. Rowena was an enigma more than the warrior princess herself realized. She'd used two spells earlier to subdue her captors, but she resolved to limit magical use to dire situations like that. Revealing herself as magical might ruin any chance of unraveling the mystery of the Scottish woman. She turned over and feel into a deep sleep.

 **Near Stamford Bridge**

Sir Godric Gryffindor could never have forseen such ridicule in his life. Word of the fight in the woods had reached the army and spread like wildfire. Not only did Sir Bravelot have to explain to his king why he wasn't living up to his nickname, but the king made him also explain it to the men under his command.

After that, the men had gotten out of hand. They seized their commander, stripped him of his armor and insignia, then locked him in a stock. Then they all lined up and pelted him with fruit. Only after that did they agree to listen to him again. Sir Gryffindor walked to a decrete location to the nearby river to wipe off all the fruit. All he could think about what how to get back at the women who were responsible for all this. It would be impossible to forget their faces. Both had been pretty and impressing, so it wouldn't be hard to recognize them.

As Gryffindor wiped the fruit off of his powerfully-built chest, he despised at the hopelessness of it. Both women were probably many miles away by now, lost among the local population. But if he ever ran into them again...he paused before he got to that point. No matter what, he would repair his ego...and show those women who was boss...if he ever ran into them again. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Godric felt hatred for the new Saxon king boiling up in the his stomach. For sometime, he'd been in communication with William of Normandy, playing both sides. Maybe it was time to go all in.

* _She-wolf was a term applied to several prominent women in the Middle Ages, most famously Isabella of France, Queen of England in the early 1300s. It usually wasn't very complimentary. Isabella was a unique individual, noted by her male counterparts as beautiful, quick-witted, politically savvy, and smart, unusual comments for that time period. She was married to Edward II of England at age 12, had Edward III at age 15, and had three more children over the next ten years. Sadly for a woman of Isabella's status, her husband had lots of bad luck, or just was a weak ruler. In 1321-1322, she was basically abandoned by the English army, and nearly captured by the Scots, losing several of her personal staff in the process. She was so furious with her husband that she divorced him, invaded England from France, deposed Edward II, and ruled from 1326-1330 until her son Edward III was of age. Like Rowena, she was never immune from the chaos of the this time period. The hit HBO series Game of Throne is actually based on the period of 1066-1486 in English history. More information on her life_ c _an be found at Wikipedia, or on the world wide web. Just a little background to show how she-wolf was both used as a curse, and as a blessing for this time period._


	6. Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 5-Calm Before the Storm

"We tend to become like those whom we admire." Thomas S. Monson

In the moors of western England lived a unique brand of folk. They were tough, living off of rough farming, hunting, and working for the royal crown. They were survivors, living along the volatile border of Wales and England, an area that would later become known as the Welsh Marshes. Having grown up with violence, many of them were the best soldiers and fiercely territorial, rivaling those of any on the European contintent. The Welsh border was the heart of the kingdom of Wessex, which later ovethrew the Viking invasions. Later, this area would play host to some of the most important-and violent-times of English history and kingship.

Into this territory was born Godric Gryffindor, Lord of Godric's Hallow, and hailing from wild moor. Gryffindor had speedily returned to his estates after the humailation at Stamford Bridge, determined to repair his reputation. A secret letter was awaiting him on his arrival, one he'd been dreading, but now was eager to see. In rough Old English*, was a simple message.

 **Sir Godric**

 **Your message of support was well-received.**

 **William of Normandy going to invade, already**

 **common knowledge. In or out? No teetering. If**

 **you are in, your lands will be preserved and**

 **your house increased. When invasion is mounted,**

 **you are expected to join us on the beach and**

 **publicly announce your support for William.**

 **William of Normandy**

Here it was, the ultimatum. Godric grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.

 **William of Normandy**

 **How great to see your message. I was hoping for**

 **a better response to my discrete inquiries. No one**

 **among the English nobility are willing to step forward,**

 **not with Harold having an iron grip on the country.**

 **He just won a victory again Harold Harada and the**

 **Vikings.**

He paused for a moment, wondering if he should write the next few lines. Doing so would be treason, and could result in his head on a pike in London. The memory of the humailiation at the hands of the king and his men came back into his mind. All reservations instantly vanished into thin air.

 **His army has lost many men and is battered,**

 **weary, and in north England. Now is the time**

 **to strike. Southern England is defenseless. I'm**

 **in. Pevensey is the best place to land. There is**

 **natural harbors that I've seen with my own eyes.**

 **Awaiting your arrival.**

 **Sir Godric Gryffindor**

Sealing the envelope with his seal, he turned to a trusted servant behind him.

"Take this to London, give it to the Bishop of Portsmouth, he'll make sure it gets to Harold," he said. "Let no one else see it. The king's life may depend on it."

The messenger nodded, and left the building, unaware of the meaning of Godric's words. Godric breathed a huge sigh of apprehension: the die was now cast. If William lost, he would drag Sir Gryffindor down with him. If not, the rewards would be incaclucable. All he could do was wait now. Wait until the word of William's invasion arrived-and Harold's summons to join his former king.

* * *

Two days had passed since the Battle of Stamford bridge. It had ended in an English victory, but thousands, including nearly half of the English army, had died. So many Vikings, including Harold Harada, were lost that only 24 ships were needed to carry the survivors away back to Norway. Years afterwards, the locals would still find bleached bones strewn across the old battlefield, left unburied or pulled from shallow graves by the elements or wild animals.

In the meantime, Godric had returned to his home, but Rowena and Helga were traveling at a much slower pace south. Shortly after leaving Little Hangleton, they turned west, towards the coast. Traveling through lands and woods little changed since the time of the builders of Stonehenge, they arrived in the city of Carlisle, purchased supplies and continued south, traveling through the woods the locals had named Inglewood.

Brigands remained a constant danger, but they managed to avoid them through Helga's knowledge of the woods. Helga looked at her traveling companion, who was busy scanning the woods for signs of trouble. They were traveling on a narrow path normally used by wagons, including those commissioned by the royal government carrying gold and silver for the royal treasury. Suddenly Rowena held out a hand.

"We're being watched," she said in a hoarse whisper.

"Highwayman?" Helga asked in high-pitched voice. "What will they do to us?"

"I don't know," Rowena replied. "We're dirt poor as is, so we'll be of little value to them."

Suddenly a thundering of hooves annonced Rowena's observation as right. They came from all directions, and Helga and Rowena had trouble keeping their horses from bolting. The men had a motley collections of weapons, short swords, bows, some crossbows, and spears confiscated from local royal armories. Helga and Rowena pulled their hoods over their faces: they didn't want to be recognized at first.

"Well, what do we have here?"said a voice that almost made Rowena shriek.

She knew that voice: how could he still be alive?

"Redrik?" Rowena asked.

'Redrik' was a large, well-built man who'd been one of her father's top military commanders. He also spoke Welsh, Gaelic, and Anglo-Saxon, and was well-versed in the art of hit-and run warfare. Rowena spoke in Welsh so that Helga could understand what she was saying.

"Rowena? Can it be?" he said, dismounting from his horse and walking to the two girls.

Rowena and Helga threw their hoods off their faces.

"Rowena!" Redrik said, as Rowena got off her horse.

The two embraced: Redrik had been her best friend growing up, and the only one that hadn't sought out her hand in marriage.

"What? how? Sorry, this is my friend Helga Hufflepuff of Wales, I rescued her in York."

Helga got off of her horse and shook Redrik's hand.

"How-"

"When the castle was sacked I came south," Redrik said. "I found these brigands and joined up with them. Something I can do if our kingdom didn't survive. What about you?"

Suddenly, Helga jumped in.

"We're going to the lands of Godric Gryffindor," she said, very assertive. She wasn't going to be let out of this conversation. Helga was also afraid: without Rowena, there wasn't anyway she'd get home. Somehow she knew that from the bottom of her heart.

"Where we can take shelter," Rowena finished.

"Well, it's great news," Redrik said.

"How?"

"You're the last suriving member of the royal family," he said. "You can be the rallying point which may unite our people to fight back."

Rowena didn't have it in her heart to point out that it's possible that none might've survived the massacre. She exchange a glance with Helga that told her the same thing she was thinking.

"Please come with us," Redrik pleaded. "Take back our kingdom, our people."

Rowena's heart was torn: she had evaded responsbility, but here was her past again, haunting her. But something else tore at her: her friendship and responsbility for Helga. Helga was rapidly becoming the sister she never had, a bond she didn't want to cut off. But Redrik was right: she was the last known surviving Ravenclaw, and part of that responbility was to rescue her beloved people from disaster. But her instinct told her that Helga needed her more: that the way to rescue her people was somehow connected with Helga.

"Sorry Redrik, but I can't," she said, ignoring the look of disappointment on his face and remounting her horse. "The time is not now. The poltical landscape is changing. I need to get my bearings before I can become Queen. Besides how long will it take to get ready? Two, three months, a year? I can do more visiting our poltical alliances. Look, gather forces. Send your letters to the house of Godric Gryffindor, that is where I'll be. Besides, I don't want to hang with brigands."

Redrik saw that she had a point.

"Okay, say six months," Redrik asked.

"Six months, give me time," Rowena pleaded.

"Okay," he said.

He turned away and the brigands let them pass.

"That was a close one," Helga said.

"Yes it was," Rowena added.

"Are you-"

"Going to leave you, no," Rowena said. "But yes, I have a responsiblity I don't want to my people. I will have to see if they survived, or I'll never forgive myself. I loved them dearly."

She dabbed at the tears collecting at the corner of her eyes. Helga spotted a small cove formed out of where a small nearby spring arose out of the woods. It would be prefecet to set up camp.

"Why don't we set up came there?" Helga said.

"Sure, I'm sick and tired of riding anyway," Rowena commented.

Helga had other motives though. She wanted to unravel the mystery of this mystery woman, and perhaps it would best start voluntarily.

Night had fallen and a small bird Rowena had caught, and some goat cheese and apples from Carlisle represented the small dinner that night. Rowena stared into the fire, regretting what she told Redrik. _How can I keep a promise like that_? _Where will I be in six months_? _I might not even be in Angleland._ Helga watched the conflicting emotions boiling beneath the surface, before breaking the silence.

"Rowena, who are you?"

"What?" Rowena said, jerking out of her daze, confused by the question.

"Who are you?" Helga queried. "You hide behind your warrior side."

Rowena was taken aback: she'd never been asked a question like it, nor had she really thought about it. Her life had always been just one focus: survival. Survival in a realm of suitors, court intrique, and poltics.

"I...I...really don't know," Rowena admitted. "It's been just survival."

"May I venture a guest?," Helga asked.

"Sure, go for it."

"You are compassionate, but hard-headed, but worried about something that keeps you back," she observed.

Rowena shifted uncomfortably: she didn't want Helga to know exactly what was bothering her. Helga picked up on it, and decided not to push the issue. Suddenly, right on cue, an invisible force rammed it's way from Rowena's stomach into her chest. Trying to keep it hidden she got up.

"Be right back," she said, running off into the woods.

She found a hollow behind a large ledge and hoped that it was durable enough. She dug her fingernails into the dirt as the magic escaped. From near the fire, Helga swore she saw some multicolored fireworks going off in the woods. She dismissed it: the dark woods could play many tricks on people.

Helga pulled out her wand and began levitating stick and stones: she missed making magic. She had maybe five minutes to herself, occasionally checking the woods around her. Back at the hallow, the curse finally stopped and Rowena collapsed to the forest floor, thoroughly exhausted. She closed her eyes, fighting the exhaustion and gripped a nearby rock, trying to stand. Leaning against it, her warrior composure broke, and tears began streaking down her cheeks. She longed to tell somebody, to learn to control it: everything else had failed.

Rowena had noticed the outbursts were beginning to get worse. Ever since they began, it had just been some manageable. _Now they are completely draining me of energy,_ she thought. She felt an urgent need to do something about it, because unchecked, it might kill her someday.

For the thousandth time she considered seeking out practioners who hid in the shadows: but could they really help her? Rowena shot the idea down instantly: she didn't trust them after what they did to her when she was little. Rowena chided herself for even thinking about this but... _when you were a baby, a witch came to our castle. She killed the few guards on duty and went straight for you. The first reinforcements to reach the nursery all witnessed you being cursed by the witch. The witch was caught and executed, but she refused to lift the curse she put on you,_ her father's voice recited in her head.

Flashback

 _It was a dark and stormy night as a massive storm swept in across the North Sea and into the highlands of Scotland. The inhabitants of her majestic land sheltered in their teepees, tents, or castles. In the castle known as Ravenclaw, a very different scene was unfolding. A newborn princess had just been born. Her cries permeated the castle as a plump midwife handed the baby to her exhausted mother._

 _"It's okay," her mother, Kay Ravenclaw, Queen of the Ravenclaw clan, cooed to her newborn daughter. "Shhhh, it's okay."_

 _"It's okay for Rendrick to come in," she said to the midwife._

 _Kay had black hair, sky blue eyes, and a petite frame. The baby seemed to inherit all of these characteristics, even at birth. A small wisp of black hair was visible on her head, and she had deep eyes, bluer than even her mother's, and she was skinny for a baby. The doors opened and Rendrick, king of the largest clan in Scottia, came in. He was a heavily built man, with brown hair and dark, beady eyes. He dropped to his wife's side and observed the baby. It stopped crying and looked into it's father's eyes._

 _"She likes you," Kay_ _said. "What should we name her?"_

 _"I don't know," Rendrick said, thinking hard. "How does Margarate sound?"_

 _"No," Kay replied. "I want it to be a regal name, one that will never be forgotten. How about Rowena?"_

 _"What, no, not after a flower," Rendrick protested._

 _"Why not? I happen to like that flower," Kay protested back. "She will become such. She will learn to fight and become the greatest princess the clan has ever produced. Perhaps one day, she will save our nation."_

 _"Maybe," Rendrick said, not putting any stock in the old prophecies, but not wanting to unpleased his wife. "Rowena Renrick Ravenclaw it is then."_

 _A few days later_

 _You aren't allowed here," Rendrick's booming voice sounded out._ " _Now go before I burn you at the stake."_

 _A figure dressed in a ragged old cloak didn't move. She raised her arms._

 _"On this night, the newborn princess will be cursed with magical powers, she will have outburst and then you will have to burn **her** at the stake," the witch announced._

 _Men rushed in and seized the warlockess, breaking her wand in the process. They hauled her away towards the dungeons. The next day, she was hauled out, condemned before a tribunal, and burned before a huge crowd. But her curse came true..._

Rowena pushed the painful account related to her by her mother and father when she was five out of her mind. For years she'd pondered his words and questioned the witnesses: none of them said anything different from what her father had told her.

"What was that for?" Helga asked.

"Well you know, you're a woman...moon cycle issues," she invented, sitting back down on the log. "Mine's particularly bad sometimes."

"Oh," Helga said, understanding in her eyes.

"Rowena," Helga said, looking at her wide-eyed. "That man a couple nights of go...you killed him without any remorse. How could you? You're such a nice person. Why? And the food you stole...that's wrong. How could you do that without suffering any remorse?"

Rowena's heart grew fonder for this girl: she was so innocent, yet mature. The world could learn so much from this Welsh healer of the woods. _I think she's spent too much time hiding in the woods._

"Helga, my world is vastly different from yours, hidden so deep in the woods," Rowena said, exhausted and resolute. "From the moment of birth, we are trained to fight. I really didn't have any choice."

Helga listened with rapt attention: she was getting to the core of the warrior part, bound by honor, of this girl. In the future, she hoped she could break beyond that: only then could the two become true friends. There was advantages to having a warrior princess as your friend.

"My hands aren't clean Helga, I can tell you that," Rowena said. "I try the best I can. The only reason-"

"You were protecting me," Helga said, understanding more. "You feel responsbility for what happened to your people, so you're trying to make up for it by protecting me."

"Possibly, I don't know, it's complicated," Rowena said, finally showing some vunerability. "So, what about you? Why does the world need more people like you?"

Helga blushed under the comment coming from a toughened warrior.

"I don't know...I was an only child and my parents doted on me," she said, wondering how much she could really tell her. Helga paused: then decided to partially trust this warrior. "When I was a baby, I was cursed by a witch-"

Rowena's heart twisted inwardly and also shouted for joy: if Helga was telling the truth, she'd have someone she could share her secret with.

"-any association with witchcraft is you know," Helga said. "The witch somehow managed to deflect blame onto my parents. I never knew them. They allowed themselves to be caught and sent me to live with my cousins."

"Oh Helga," Rowena said, hugging her.

"There, they accepted me, and my cousins were all healers, specializing in plants and herbs."

Helga purposely left out the words 'magical' and 'potions'. She would need to gage where this girl stood before she revealed the full truth-and that wouldn't be for awhile. She'd only known this girl four days, even though it seemed like she'd know her forever.

"I've cured boils, lessened the impact of measles, and eased the suffering of smallpox, which almost always results in death," Helga said. "But others deemed it witchcraft. I fled deep into the woods, until a mob found me. When I was cleared of all charges, they sold me to avoid embarrassment."

"And you still want to go back?" Rowena queried, a confused expression on her face.

"Yes, what else do I have?"

"Me, why don't you come to Gryffindor with me instead, at least for awhile?," Rowena said, worried about her friend. Anytime anyone was accused of witchcraft, often their relatives could remain under suspicion for years, even generations. "If the Gryffindors don't give me refuge, I could come to Wales for a period with you, until I decide what to do about my people."

"My patients though," Helga protested, but intriqued by the offer.

"You can't help them if you are being chased by a mob."

Helga huffed: Rowena had a point.

"Okay, I'll go with you," Helga said. "When do you think we'll get there?"

"Perhaps another week," Rowena anwsered. "Barring nothing happening in the meantime. Besides, you weren't the only one to be cursed by a witch."

* * *

In the channel, William of Normandy read the message dictated by Gryffindor two days before. All was well: the Gryffindors were the best warriors of the Anglo-Saxon nobility, and if Sir Godric kept to his word, Harold's forces would be greatly reduced. Behind Willaim, in over 300 ships, were 2,000 archers, 3,000 knights and their mounts, with 7,000 infantry backing all of them up.

This was the cream of the Norman army, a revolutionary force built on the tactics of their Viking ancestors, and the products of the largely-forgotten lessons learned by Charles "the hammer" Martel at the Battle of Tours 300 years earlier. No other army in Europe used cavalry the way the Normans did. William also had another advantage: silently he was tolerant of wizards, as long as they did what he wanted*. When they didn't, he had them executed.

Their destination: Pevensey, a natural harbor in which a thousand ships could easily dock. Seven hours later, as night began to fall, the first ships landed on the beaches. First off were archers, arrows on the bow, ready to fire at anything that moved. The men waited, staring off into the horizon. When a few mounted knights got off, William sent them in a twenty mile search radius, looking for the English army.

"What'd you find?" William asked the first to return.

"Nothing," he exitedly announced. "The English army is gone."

A cheer went up from the men behind William. It died at once when the Conqueror raised his hand.

"Good news at first, but he'll be here soon," William said. "When Harold crests that ridge, we'll be ready for him."

 _Obviously there is a lot of conjecture here, but I imagine that wizards and enterprising warlords and kings formed alliances for good and bad-like Merlin and King Arthur. It appears in the Harry Potter universe the stories are accepted as somewhat true (Order of Merlin). Moreover, J.K. Rowling has given us some hints herself in this direction. In a 2005 interview, JK Rowling stated that the fact that the rise and fall of Gellert Grindewald that overlaps with the Muggle World War II wasn't a concidence. It can be inferred that the two wars fed off of each other, increasing the violence of the war in both worlds. Many rulers in the medieval period employed 'seers' in their courts at this time, while at the same time, executing all others who were suspected in the least of witchcraft. This note will feed into some plot elements later in the story._

 _As the timeline is following real events, it'll be useful to include this note. From when William landed in Pevensey to when the battle will decide who rules England was about three weeks. The next few chapters will take place during that tumultuous time._


	7. Stomin' Awakes

Chapter 6-Stormin' Away

"You may not realize it...but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you." -Walt Disney

Angeland was in paralysis. News of William's landing and the size of his army had traveled like wildfire through the English countryside. Harold Godwinson had made many enemies in his rise to power, and these division quickly became known. Unlike near York, no local forces or earl turned out to challenge William or slow his progress. Like the Stanleys at Bosworth Field 300 years later, most were content to wait on the fence and see who won. Little did they know that William had no intention of guaranteeing anyone land ownership or poltical office if he won.

It took less than 48 hours for word to reach Harold up at York. The English government, still not fully organized, was virtually paralyzed and panic began to envelope much of the country. Harold was facing a dire situation: half of his army, including many of his elite soldiers, were already dead, and he didn't have time to train the next set of cadets. His men were weary, both from their week-long dash north, and the Battle of Stamford Bridge. He'd have to rely on reservists ('fyrd') to bolster his forces. Harold had little choice but to turn south, hoping that William would be foolish enough to try and take London and weaken his forces. William did no such thing: for once, two generals of equal ability would meet on the battlefield, with the result that thousands men would die.

The wizarding community was in an equal uproar. The Wizarding Council had descended into chaos, over whether to support Harold or William. Moreover, William dispatched his wizards and witches. They roamed far ahead of William's army, threatening anyone who dared try to stop him by any magical means. They gathered lists of every magical witch or wizard in the country-and started to keep tabs on them. With the Wizarding Council and it's corp of dark wizard catchers in disarray, dark forces were more than willing to rear their ugly heads.

* * *

Salazar Slytherin couldn't believe his luck. After the ransacking of the farm he was on by Saxon mercenaries, he'd made his way to London. It hadn't taken him long-with a little extra magical help-to worm his way into the top merchant class. But Salazar had other issues to worry about. Walking down a deserted, unpaved, muddy street strewing with sewer water, Salazar looked around briefly, then tapped a brick in a wall three times.

The wall gave away and Salazar slipped inside as the wall replaced itself. Ahead of him was Londonium Alley, the only part of the city to survive the burning when Boudica ransacked the city a thousand years prior. After the city was burned down, a unknown wizard had found the only street still standing and came up with a brilliant idea. Over 400 Briton tribe and Roman wizards/witches put aside their differences and descended on the street, magically concealing it to look like the rest of the burning city. When the Romans and later inhabitants blissfully rebuilt the city without realizing the existence of Londium Alley.

A small motley street, it was were the Wizarding community of London hid-and openly associated with those of their own world. Right on the left was a shabby old shop with a brand new sign: Ollivanders, makers of wand since 385. Salazar went inside, a magical bell ringing in the depths of the shop.

There were no shelves, only a single counter with a back workroom corridoned off by a ragged old curtain. Suddenly a young man came through the curtain.

"Salazar!" he said, excited.

He vaulted the counter and the two embraced.

"Goren, how are you?" Salazar asked.

"Fine, just fine, father died a week ago," he said sadly.

"I'm sorry to her that."

"I heard what happened-"

"It's okay," Salazar said, fighting back emotion. "I need a new wand."

"Well, I got me one in the shop," Goren said, disappearing into the backroom. Five minutes later he emerged from the backroom holding a stick. "Thirteen and a half quarter inches, the core is a addler fang."

Salazar took it, and felt as if mind and body had been reunited.

"I thought it might choose you," Goren said. "Now what are your plans?"

"Get me some income, then take revenge on the Muggles who murdered my family," he said.

A somber expression covered Goren's face.

"I hope you don't get caught, you know what happens," Goren said. "Stay here where it is safe."

"Nah," Salazar said. "I've got things to do."

With that he spun on his heel and walked out of the shop towards the Muggle world. He had a shop dealing in weapons to take care of. The Muggle owner was going to sell it to him at a good price-whether he knew or not y et. As he walked from the shop, a figure in a dark hood watched him go, then disappeared into the night.

* * *

Rowena and Helga had finally reached their next destination. After the close encounter at York, they emerged out of the forests and into the city of Manchester. Founded since Roman times near the confluence of the Irwell and Irk Rivers, the city had become a hub of trade, connected to the city of York. Rowena and Helga had joined the trade convoys, disguising themselves as local merchants-with some unknown help from Helga, without Rowena's knowledge.

Helga set up camp while Rowena went into town for supplies. Near nightfall she returned to the small campfire the Welsh woman had set up. She was burdened by a large bag of supplies she had bought-or 'borrowed', depending on how you looked at it. After all, they were going to a good cause. Luckily Helga had stopped asking her where she got all of her bounty from.

"How's your arm?" Helga queried.

It had been 12 hours since she had last washed and cleaned the bandages.

"Fine," Rowena said, unwrapping the bandages.

The wound had fully healed under Helga's care, with no sign of infection. Only a faint red scar marked the spot where Rowena had nearly met her Maker.

"No need for anymore bandages," Helga said.

Suddenly Rowena perked up and looked to the north, towards the city of Manchester.

"Something's wrong," she said. "In the city."

"Should we go see what it is?" Helga asked.

"Aboslutely," Rowena said. "We must know what's happening locally."

Rowena hid her supplies in a nearby tree and the two raced to the edge of the woods, to a small rise overlooking the town of some 2,000 people. Helga's jaw fell open, while painful memories invaded Rowena's mind. The town was in chaos, people were fleeing in every direction. The guards who were supposed to be keeping watch were nowhere to be seen. Food was strewn in the unpaved streets, cooking fires were raging untended, and armored men were joinging the fleeing mob.

"What's happening?" Helga asked.

"Let's find out," Rowena anwsered.

She climbed over the city's wall with Helga behind her and grabbed a man fleeing the chaos.

"What's happening?" she asked in Saxon.

"William of Normandy has invaded, his army is just outside the gates," he said, before Rowena let him flee.

She grabbed Helga by the hand and began to drag her back towards the woods.

"What did he say-"

"An army has invaded and is just outside the gates," she said. "Saighdear."

Helga began to panic, while Rowena used her Gaelic curse word as she dragged Helga through a mass of fleeing people.

"No there's not," Rowena said in Welsh, completely calm. "It's the fog of war. Rumors spread faster than fact. William will invade from the south, some 250 miles from here. It'll take him at least a week to get here."

"How do you know?"

"I'm a warrior princess. Believe me, I know."

Helga settled down, her trust in this Scottish girl building quite rapidly. They reached the woods and started towards their hiding place, crossing a small meadow covered with white flowers.

"By then, we'll be long gone in either Gryffindor's territory or Wales. Come on let's-"

Rowena stopped mid-stride, her hand inching back to the sword attached to her belt.

"What's wrong?" Helga asked.

"Nothing, just-something doesn't feel right," Rowena said, trying to explain it, her eyes "A warrior's sixth sense you could call it."

Helga's magical sense was tingling. Something magical was around them, but what? She scanned the empty woods.

"GET DOWN!" she yelled, tackling Rowena to the ground.

A series of lights flashed by where they'd been standing, blowing out trees behind them. Helga reached for her wand, but a flash of light scarred her hand.

"OUCH!" she said, collapsing beside Rowena.

Rowena stood up and was promptly hit by a red streak of light. She collapsed, feeling her curse roar to life. Six black figures walked out of the woods around them, all of them cloaked and wearing skull masks, holding wands. Helga's eyes widened in panic: she was outnumbered six to one. Her dueling skills weren't that great, as she was way better at potions and healing conoctions than fighting. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm in a death grip. Shock reverbated up her spine as she saw Rowena. She was curled in a kneeling position on the ground, breathing heavily. What had those men cursed her with?

"Helga run behind that rock," Rowena said.

"But-"

"Just do it!" Rowena said, looking Helga straight in the eye.

Helga was shocked: instead of Rowena's clear, purpose filled blue eyes, they clouded with fright, an unnatural emotion she'd rarely seen from this warrior woman. She obeyed without question. Helga ducked behind the rock as Rowena collapsed to her side, grabbing at anythng. For Rowena, it was pure agony. Rowena was in terrible pain, whatever that light was had set off her curse and multiplied it by two. Now it was angry, and roaring to get out. Nothing would stand in it's way. Rowena saw the men closing in and knew she had to protect Helga and herself. Anger rose in her throat along with the pain and it was with a measure of sastifcation she unleashed the pent up fury, knowing full well the consequences she would face.

A blizzard of red light erupted from her body. Screams of surprise emanated from the masked men as the wave hit them.

"Protego," two of them yelled.

The initial wave bypassed them, but slammed into those too slow to deploy their defensive spells. Wave upon wave of red light slammed into them: the Protego shields shattered and the men's wands vaporized into ash. The would-be attackers froze in mid-stride, their skeleton flashing vividly for all to see. Helga, watching from behind the rock, tried to stifle her laughter at the state of their would-be captors.

Helga, looked at Rowena, barely visible in the middle of the clearing. She was a witch...

but...she had never been trained. Helga had heard of what happened to some children who never were trained in time: they developed an uncontrollable power called 'Obscury'. Nobody really knew what it meant: nobody wanted to talk about it. Yet it seemed she had some semeblance of control: she only had burst out once, maybe twice since Helga had met her.

Meanwhile, the attackers weren't having a good time of it. The red light was completely replaced with a litany the colors of the rainbow. Strange things started happening to them all at once. One his clothes simply melted away and he was blasted high into the sky. Slowly he flew until he disapeared over the treetops. Another took a hit by a burst of purple light, staggered out of the clearing, and began kissing the nearest tree. Two, screaming like little girls, had their clothes vaporized before being hurled into a tree: the branches came to life, wrapping around bodies until only their heads were visible. The next one took a faceful of yellow/orange light and sprouted tenticles all over his body before collapsing. The last one got the worse of it by far. Hit by some kind of inducted magical paraylsis, he froze as wave upon wave of magic hit him. Roots from the ground materialized and wrapped him up high in the treetops.

With that, the light ended and Rowena collapsed completely to the forest floor. Her staggered breathing and sweat covered arms and forehead spoke to the degree it had taken out of her. Helga raced to her side, feeling for a pulse, before putting Rowena's good arm over her shoulder. She lifted the warrior to her feet and began to hobble away from the meadow, now completely blackened.

"Wh...wha..." Rowena tried to say, but too exhausted.

"Shhhh," Helga said. "It's okay, just the curse right?" I won't say anything."

Rowena struggled to stay awake as Helga lead her away to their camp. Helga put her down into a grove of thick grass. Rowena collapsed, completely out of it.

"Stay here," she whispered to the exhausted Ravenclaw princess.

"I...I'm...not..goin...g...any..where..."

After seeing that Rowena was safe, Helga steeled herself, and ran back into the forest, wand drawn. She had work to do. When she reached the area Rowena had collapsed, she peered behind a bush. All of their attackers were completely knocked out, but still the worse for wear. Trying to ignore the sight before her, Helga went to the first man, completely covered in tenticles.

" _Oblaviate,"_ she whispered, touching her wand to the man's forehead.

The man's eyes instantly became dreamy. Three of Rowena's other victims were knocked out, but the two in the bush were still awake and kicking. She approached them with a steel in her eyes, and pointed her wand at their foreheads. The two men froze, eyes locked on hers when she said, "Oblaviate."

An hour later Helga emerged from the forest to their campsite, an armful of medicinal herbs in her arms. Rowena was fast asleep, although the sun was still high in the sky. Helga checked Rowena's pulse before retrieving the supplies and the bedrolls they'd bought-stolen-back in York. She pondered what she should do next: should she confess that she was witch and Rowena was too? Even though she wanted to, a small voice told her no.

Rowena had let slip a few days previous that her father had imposed a harsh punishment for witchcraft: run through with a sword followed by burning at the stake. Raised in that atmosphere, it wouldn't be wise to upend that worldview-yet. Rowena would adjust, hopefully eventually...hopefully. Helga shuddered at what might happen if she didn't. She put her wand back into her dress and grabbed an apple. It was going to be a long wait.

Late in the afternoon, Rowena's eyes finally flickered open, now back to their normal blue. She slowly stood up against a rock, still exhausted, not trusting her legs to hold her weight.

"Rowena, are you okay?" Helga asked.

Rowena was grateful to see she wasn't repulsed.

"I'm fine," she said.

"So, that's your curse."

"Yes, it's...I don't know."

"It's okay...that magic, or whatever it was-"

"Set it off," Rowena finished, hungarily biting into some bread Helga handed her

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Helga asked.

"Control it," Rowena said, sitting back down. "Either that or get burned at the stake. There's _got_ to be a way."

What Helga didn't say was that there is a way.

"Where I come from, there was a nearby monastary library," Helga suggested. "Maybe there could be something there."

"Yeah, maybe," Rowena said, her thoughts echoing those of Helga's. For awhile, she'd though about consulting some priests or books, but wasn't sure who to trust.

Any local priest or scholar would report back to her father, who would chastise her for it. Now her father was dead, or over 100 miles away to the north somewhere, that avenue was now open.

"What happened to those men?" Rowena asked. "I've never seen them before."

Helga debated what just to tell her what she knew about them.

"Well, those of us that live out in the Welsh woods call them _dynion coedwig,_ or just coedwig. It means-"

"Forest men," Rowena finished, her Welsh knowledge coming back to her rather rapidly. "So what?"

"Well, they cause devestation, then vanish without a trace," Helga said. "People bolt their doors and wall up their windows with brick where I come from because of them. But what happened to them. Well..."

About ten minutes later, Helga and Rowena were rolling on the ground with laughter. Once the shock of their escape and the adrenaline had finally worn off, the episode had become quite funny. Rowena noticed that Helga had a natural talent for storytelling, even preserving the funny parts of story.

"I did all that..." she drifted off.

Rowena turned away from Helga. What did this all mean for her?

"Hey, we'll figure it out," Helga said, tappping her on the shoulder.

"For years, I tried to figure it out on my own," Rowena responded, taking Helga's hand. "I'd never thought I'd ever have a true friend."

"Thanks," Helga said, reflecting on the fact that like Rowena, she had met her first true friend as well.

"Let's get to Godric's Hallow," Helga said.

"Yeah," Rowena agreed, rolling out her bedroll. "The sooner the better."

* * *

Godric Gryffindor hadn't been having a good time of it. After meeting William of Normandy at the beach, William had promptly sent and the small retinue of retainers he's brought back to the West Country. Sir Gryffindor had expected to fight alongside William, but was told that the Normans didn't need any more help. His job was to keep reinforcements from reaching Harold. That Gryffindor had done, but it didn't stop the worry that was now building in his mind.

Stories had reached him, of what had happened to the lords around Pevensey. William had confiscated their lands and told them that it was now just a gift from the new king. The lords of course had fled to Harold, but if William won, their lands would be completely lost. What would happen to his extensive lands if William won? But more importantly, what if William lost and he was found out. Anglo law decreed that traitors be killed no matter the rank.

He glanced at the shield bearing the large lion emblem of the House of Gryffindor. Below that was a simple phrase: _Libertas omnium iustum est. Freedom is everyone's right._ Harold had broken that contract, had pulled thousands of men from their jobs in the middle of the harvest, leaving their families to go hungry, all in the name of protecting his kingdom from an invasion that didn't come. He rewarded his brothers and family members with large land gifts that left many workers and their overlords mired in poverty, families stripped of their wealth, struggling against a world that played no favorites.

A knight came up to his side.

"Sir Gryffindor, when do I mobilize the fyrd?" he asked.

"Sir Gavin, not yet," Gryffindor said. "I've just reconned William's army.."

"You have?" he asked, stunned.

"Yes, I have," Godric said, knowing that with his reputation this would be believed. "I've even pretended to consider supporting him."

"He believed that?" Gavin asked, skeptical.

"Not totally," he said. "But enough to allow me to see his camp. It's formidable, heavily fortified, with cavalry and enough men to legitimately challenge Harold. Harold will need every man he can get. My scouts tell me he's still just south of Manchester. At least two weeks will be needed to make the journey to London and Pevensey. Tell our men to be ready, but not mobilize yet."

"Yes sir," Gavin said. "Sound judgement sir."

"Thanks Gavin," Gryffindor said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Keep it up, and soon I'll reccomend you to the king's personal guard."

Gavin bowed then moved out to alert the nearby settlements. As he disappeared, another man came up to him.

"Sir," he said.

"In here," Gryffindor said.

The man followed him into his personal house. The door closed unsolicited by anyone.

"Sir, the Wizarding Council is in chaos, wizards speaking French have terrorized the entire population, dark wizards are..."

"I know, I know," Godric said. "I bagged three of them on the way here."  
On his way home, having left his retinue near London to reinforce Harold, Godric had come across three dark wizards harassing a group of Muggle peasants. None of them had been a match for the mighty Gryffindor, who had a family-and personal-obligation to uphold.

"What'd you do to them?" the man inquired.

"Sir Ollivander," he said. "What do you think I did to them? Nothing. I disarmed and broke their wands before leaving. It seems they have an unlimited supply of them."

"I heard of three witchcraft related burnings in that area yesterday," Ollivander said. He went on to describe what the men looked like.

"It's them," Godric said. "I guess my Memory Charms weren't quite good enough, or there were witnesses I missed."

"The jails are empty, broken out," Ollivander said. "The Wizarding council had lost complete control."

"Like it had any to begin with," Godric said dismissively.

Godric had always been skeptical of the council and how divided it had been. Recent events had only proven him right.

"Go, safeguard your brother Goren," Sir Gryffindor said. "I'll watch over the West Country. He's the best wandmaker we have."

"Yes Sir," Ollivander said, before leaving the room.

Sir Godric let out a sigh. What was he to do? His livelihood and those of the wizarding community were in danger. What was he to do?

In the dead of night, a figure appeared in the woods out of nowhere. Where Rowena had collapsed was now a large crater. Five of the six men were still around it, unconscious, or worse. The cloaked figure walked to the first one, still hugging the tree. The man was now asleep, muttering compliments to the tree about it's brown hair and red, lustrous lips. He walked to the two men nearly naked, trapped in the trees. He looked up to see the other man swaying gently in the breeze near the treetops. The other was staggering about, his face looking more like an octopus rather than a human face.

He approached the two men trapped in the bush.

"What happened?" he yelled, enraged.

"Oh, Master-" the one with blonde hair said.

"Sir, you just ordered us to go after the Welsh healer," the one with black hair said.

"We found her," the black haired one said with pride.

"And then what?" the hooded man demanded.

None of them could answer him. Someone had cleverly Memory Charmed their wits out of them, in addition to whoever had done such magic to his choice students. The Welsh healer and her princess warrior friend would have to be watched-and eliminated-carefully.

"SILENCIO!" the man shouted.

Everything went silent for a two mile radius.

"I'm disappointed in my choice students," he said, surveying the motley crew in various stages of magical and physical embarassment. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"My beauty," said the one who was hugging the tree, attracting the gaze of everyone in the clearing. "Will you marry me? I have six tons of gold I can give you."

"Master," said the man with the octopus face. "Can you transfigure me back to my normal shape? I've been like this for like six hours. I've caught a pig, been force to eat mice, and-"

"SILENCIO!" the hood shouted again.

None of them said anything this time.

"Oh, you so deserve what is coming," the masked man said, turning around, still hooded. He waved his wand and all of them transfered to the bush, one of them still asleep and swooning romantically.

"The Cruciatus Curse should teach you not to blunder like this again."

 **Londium Alley as you may have guessed is Diagon Alley. It's how I imagined it came into being. In AD 60, Boudica (a woman) lead a massive revolt against Roman rule. She raised a force of men. women, and children (everyone it seems fought in those tribal days) flattened modern day London, St. Albans, and another city before she was finally defeated by the Roman somewhere in central Britain.**

 **As for these poor guys, well, I took some inspiration from my own funny side and the scene at the end of Goblet of Fire, when Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all get hit with a variety of spells and had strange things happen to them. It happened again at the end of Order of the Phoenix, when it says that they looked like 'slugs'. I had a lot of fun with this chapter.**

 **As for the Wizarding Council, JK Rowling said that something like this existed before the Ministry was formed sometime in 1689. The way I'm imagining it, at this point it's little more than a Privy council of sort, just a collection of wizarding nobleman/women who gathered to discuss various issues affecting the Wizarding community. The Dark wizard catchers is a loose patchwork of highly skilled catchers who help keep the dark wizarding world in check. We'll see how that goes in future chapters.**

 **'Obscury' is based of Fantastic Beasts and (poor Credence). Magic manifests itself differently in various forms when children are young. Some it manifests early, other late (Neville Longbottom) while others manage some form of control over it (young Tom Riddle). Here in Rowena, who is untrained but has maintained some control, this is how it manifests itself.**


	8. Medical Emergencies

Chapter 7-Medical Emergency

 **"Go and do what you may never have a chance to do."-Russell M. Nelson**

A few more day went by, making it a week since William invaded from Normandy. Harold was now around 100 miles north of London near Leeds, marching around 27 miles per day with his elite infantry. Increasingly frantic reports were reaching him of what William was doing in the Pevensey area. He'd built several mot and bailey castles* and was raiding and pillaging the villages and cities in the area. The southern lords were getting restless and demanding Harold take action. With his hold on power already tenous, Harold was now under immense pressure to take William to battle.

Pressure can often lead to bad decisions taken under pressure. In the case of Harold, it could not only cost him a kingdom, but his life.

Rowena and Helga had shifted another 40 or so miles south. The area, sparsely populated and heavily wooded, was perfect for brigands-and two women on the run. Rowena and Helga had reached the village of Stoke-en-Trent*, actually a collection of small hamlets. Rowena and Helga actually got there a few days before but circumstances demanded they stay.

"Keep it clean water only," Helga said as Rowena brought a round of fresh blankets.

Inside, the screams of a woman tore at Rowena's heart. She wished she could do more to relieve the pain, but experience had taught her that there was no way to cure that which was childbirth. The woman was in a small wooden farmer house, lying on a bed of straw. Helga was holding the woman's hand and showing her how to breath.

"Can't you do anything?" Rowena asked Helga as the woman screamed again.

"No," Helga said. The true anwser was 'yes', but she would be burned at the stake and that would help no one. "Alright. I think it's coming."

"She thinks it's coming," Rowena translated to the woman.

"Hurry, get ready," Helga shouted at Rowena.

Rowena positioned herself at the business end, just in time to catch a slippery thing that fell right into her arms. It immediately howled at the top of it's lungs.

"Wow, you've really got a pair of lungs," Rowena muttered in Gaelic. "Just like my oldest brother when he found out that he was stupid enough to lose the throne."

Rowena shudderd to think what happened to him after that. Like Bath-sheba's husband of old, he was sent in battle at the hottest part by her jealous father. He never returned. She wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed it to the mother, who gazed at it with such love it softened the toughened warrior's heart.

"You have a healthy baby girl," Rowena said to the woman. "What are you going to name her."

"Joan," she said. "Joan will be the baby's name."

"Thanks," she said to Helga. "You should stay and become the village's midwife."

"What did she say?" Helga said to Rowena.

Rowena repeated to her in Welsh what the woman had said to her in Saxon.

"Who are you, and how do you speak so many languages?" the woman asked Rowena.

"I come from a monastary," Rowena said, trying to act as if she were ashamed. "Apparantly I wasn't qualified to be a nun. Too rough and couldn't sit still."

"Oh," the woman said. "It's okay. Sometimes that's not our calling in life. You can find other ways to serve. Church is actually going to be tomorrow. Why don't you stay for it?"

Rowena repeated to Helga what the woman said to her.

"Sure, why not," Helga said. "We need a rest and a bath."

Rowena accepted the invitation on behalf of herself and Helga.

"Consider it thanks for delivering our little Joan," the woman said.

After Helga and Rowena left the house and washed up, they sat down for a small dinner at the local inn.

"I should learn Saxon," Helga said.

"I wish I could help you," Rowena anwsered. "All the books I learned from have been burned to a crisp by the invasion."

"Maybe we could 'borrow' some," Helga suggested.

Rowena instantly felt some guilt burning at her insides. She'd stolen originally to survive, but she had to admit to herself that some of it lately was way over the top.

"I don't know," she said finally to herself.

"Okay, just continue to be my translater until we reach Wales."

"Maybe we can come across some of those books on the way," Rowena added.

Salazar couldn't believe his luck. His new befuddled partners had changed their minds when they saw just how successful Salazar was as a business partner. Of course, Salazar neglited to mention _how_ he was such a good salesman. The new government, strapped for cash, had willingly accepted Salazar's proposal for a arms agreement that undercut all other bids. Of course the final ever ballooning interest payment could always be payed when the invaders were sent packing and the country was back to normal.

Now Salazar found himself on the way north, to meet with Harold. Harold had left a lot of weaponry behind: many of the men, horses and wagons who carried them had been lost through regular army service or the Battle of Stamford Bridge. Some of the weaponry was now so dull, Harold had to leave it behind in the rush south. Most of it was to be repaired by local blacksmiths to equip the local fyrd and local army garrisons. In addition, many of the reservists picked up along the way were poor peasants who had almost nothing but the clothes on their backs. Harold would need new armor, weapons, and Salazar's business had large stockpiles rusting in warehouses scattered throughout London. All they needed was a buyer.

But it was Sunday, and needing to keep up appearances, Salazar stopped in a local inn near Stoke to wait until the next day. While there, he noticed two women sitting alone, sipping a local drink. Both were quite pretty, one with black hair, and the other with golden blonde. They stuck out like sore thumbs, cleanly dressed and hair well done compared to the local population. Perhaps they were royality, Salazar thought. Befriending local nobility had it's advantages. He practiced his approach before heading their way.

"Hi," Salazar said, joining their table.

Both women gave him sour and suspicious looks that made him uncomfortable. Suddenly recognition flared in the blonde woman's eyes and she whispered something in a language that Salazar had trouble understanding. As a merchant, his Welsh wasn't good, and both of them spoke so fast he could barley understand anything at all.

"Sorry 'bout that," Rowena said, causing him to jump.

She had a deep accent that Salazar was atonished. It was from Scottia: he'd dealt with Scottish merchants and dealers that supplied English food and weapons to the warrring and fracitious Scottish and Pictish tribes. What even atonished him more was she knew at least three languages fluently: Saxon, Welsh, and Scottian.

"What is a Sco-"

The woman from Scottia gave him a hardened look that made what he was going to say die in his throat. He was also intimidated: it was the look that only a battle-hardened warrior who'd seen much action could give. He'd have to tread carefully before he could gain their trust. Scottia and Welsh were usually skeptical of their Anglo counterparts.*

"Sorry," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "My apologies. Name is Salazar Slytherin of the Fenways."

The Scottia woman repeated what he said to the blonde. Salazar mustered what moderate Welsh he knew.

"Sorry, it's been long time," he said, causing both to jump.

"Are you Welsh?" the blone haired woman asked.

"No, I'm Anglian," he said. "From East Anglia."

Both women seemed to decide they could trust him, somewhat.

"Helga Hufflepuff of Wales," the blonde said.

"Princess Rowena Ravenclaw of Scottia," the black haired beau said.

Salazar had been right: both were nobility.

"What's a princess doing so far south?" Salazar asked.

Rowena and Helga glanced at each other before Helga nodded.

"My people were slaughtered and I'm the only royal survivor," Rowena said,

"How?" Salazar said, finding the connection between them intriquing.

"No one knows," Rowena conceded. "My castle was ransacked and the defense breached easily in a single night."

Salazar wondered whether they were connected. His manor too was heavily protected by hundred of soldiers, yet nearly all of them had been slaugthered effortlessly.

"Me manor too," Salazar said. It was a long shot. "Was lead by black hooded man?"

Rowena jogged her memory and gasped.

"It was," Rowena said, realizing who it might have been. Rage boiled up in her and only the iron grasp of Helga shut the valve off. Salazar though, picked up on it.

"Nobody knows his name," Rowena said, now furious.

Memories that had been hidden or repressed suddenly made sense. She'd been a rush when the raiders were fighting that she neglected to even consider the hooded man shouting orders, or how they got in. It was as if someone had lit a candle in Rowena's brain.

"He lead the raid. It had to be him," Rowena said, seething at herself for not realizing it sooner. "He's a cold blooded mercenary who slips inside foritifcations and slaugthers everyone. Eventually, the Scottia tribes tired of his exorbant fees and the mass slaugthers. He disappeared from our country, until a few weeks ago."

Salazar was taken aback. How could this cold-blooded violater of chivalry and the rules of war get away with stuff like this*? Moreover he potentially had a partner, even though it was woman, in his scheme.

"How'd you like to get him back?" he asked.

Rowena and Helga exchanged looks. Helga shook her head.

"No," Rowena said. "My people are my priority. Killing him won't solve anything."

"Oh," Salazar said, a little disappointed.

Suddenly everyone heard the now familiar sound of screams.

"Sounds like rumors or Saxon mercenaries," Rowena said in a weary voice. "Time to go Helga, next village."

"No, I the church," Helga responded. "Many have hiding places and I'm sick of running. It's time to do something to help these people."

"Can join you?" Salazar probed.

Rowena and Helga gave him a fierce gaze that told him they _still_ didn't trust him at all. It was clear: _don't try anything._

"Okay, okay."

"Your sword," Rowena demanded.

Salazar handed his sword and dagger over. She placed them in her pack and turned towards the door. When Rowena's back was turned, Helga pointed her wand inside her dress at the unsuspecting Salazar.

"Expelliarmus," Helga whispered.

Salazar watched in atonishment as his newly acquired wand flew out of his pocket and into Helga's hand. She was a witch.

"This too," Helga added in a deathly Rowena-like whisper. "Not a word, or else _you'll_ burn at the stake."

He followed them outside. It was pandomuin. People were fleeing and fires were raging. With the Saxon army far to the north, the local brigands had plunder on their minds and had become quite brazen.

"The church," Rowena said.

It was hidden by woods and had escaped many attempts to pillage it. Rowena, Helga, and Salazar booked it.

"The horses," Helga said.

Rowena did a 180 on her heels and reached their mounts. She cut the strings on all three of their mounts, and tied them together.

"I'll take them northward to safety, hide in the church," she said. "And here."

She threw Salazar's dagger to Helga.

"Don't be afraid to defend yourself," she warned her.

"But about me?" Salazar protested, both now weaponless and wand-less.

Rowena kicked Eagle's sides and they raced off at a gallon, pursued by three or four bandits.

"Where is the-"

But Helga already took off into the woods. Salazar had a hard time keeping up with the Welsh woman, who had plenty of experience fleeing from witch parties into the woods. She found the church, surrounded by trees, yet camoflouged by ivy growing up the wall. Helga busted through the doors, frightening the three or four priests insides. Salazar was in right behind her and they slammed the doors shuts.

The church itself wasn't anything very spectacular, but compared to the sad hamlet and homes they been traveling amongst, it looked like heaven. The floor was carpeted, while well-carved wooden benches hand enough seating for about 100 people. Up at the front of the church was the altar, with the stain glass windows behind it depicting scenes from the bible.*

The priests started yelling at them. Salazar and Helga exchanged looks: they needed Rowena as neither of them knew Latin or whatever the priests were shrieking. They could only shrug their shoulders at the priest. Salazar made a slashing motion across his throat and that quieted the priests down-somewhat. The tension was palpable as they waited, listening to the screams and the laughter of lunatics. Finally, after what seemed like ages, it finally quieted down.

Helga was wondering how Rowena was doing when suddenly the doors were flung open. Rowena stumbled inside, blessing her warrior stamina and training. Without it, she was sure she had been dead. As she crossed the threshold, her strength finally failed her and Rowena felt herself trip onto the floor. She soon lost consciouness.

She was covered in sweat, twigs, and dirt and her dress was ripped in several places. Helga was at her side immediately, suspecting another outburst. It was more: cuts were in her arms in several locations, sweat poured over her forehead and on her shoulders. Helga felt her stomach region, hoping against hope. There was no cuts there, something that even Helga couldn't treat.

"I need supplies," she said.

The priests beat her too it. They swarmed around her, holding bandages and other supplies.

"I need a bathtub, or something to hold water," she told Salazar.

Salazar grabbed a large container and headed for a nearby stream, grabbing his sword and dagger as he went. Helga spent the next hour cleaning the princess's wounds. As she worked, Rowena drifted in and out of consciousness, muttering incoherently in several languages. After she finished, the priest provided one of their nearby apartments for her rest. All this they did despite not speaking a lick of Welsh.

When she had finished, Rowena was sleeping peacefully on a straw bed in the priests' apartments, her arms and legs heavily bandaged.

"Now what?" Salazar asked.

"We wait," Helga said. "There's nothing else we can do without...you know."

They waited. The priests provided books: Helga though, couldn't read and Salazar found them not very interesting. She was still a little out of it.

"What happened?" she asked, noting her bandaged arms.

"You came into the church and collapsed," Helga said. "The priests helped bandage you up. Salazar helped too."

Rowena gave Salazar a thankful look before turning her attention to the priests.

"Thank you," she said in Latin, startling the priests.

"Your horse is just outside of here, in the orchard to the north," she told Salazar in Saxon.

She felt her eyes feel heavily.

"I need sl..."

She collapsed again, into a deep sleep. Helga turned to Salazar.

"You might as well go now," she said. "I'm sure the brigands are done."

"But..."

"You have business," Helga reminded him. "Rowena won't be good for at least another week, barrring setbacks."

"Is because you driven from home why you don't trust me?" Salazar prodded.

Helga was taken aback. How'd he know that?"

"I'm a Legillimens," he said. "I delve people's minds."

Helga had heard of such abilities, but never seen them before.

"Really," she said, fascinated. "What was Rowena thinking?"

"Can't tell," he conceded.

"What?"

"Her mind intense. A mind like an open book anyone can read. It layered with memories and thoughts woven together. Her's violence and good mixed together."

He cast a sad look at Rowena.

"Everyone of her good memories has a violent counterpart attached to it," Salazar said.

Helga gasped: this explained everything about this girl. Her focus on survival, her warrior mentality, distrust of almost everyone, her protective instincts, everything. Her admiration of Rowena grew tenfold.

"Well you'd better go," Helga said. "A Saxon like you would be a likely target."

"You're right," Salazar said. "May we meet again."

He turned on the spot and vanished. Helga blinked, but didn't flinch.

The days slowly passed. Godric grew more and more anxious as the two armies grew closer. Harold reached London, aborbed Godric's retinue and waited there to give his men more time to rest and for more reservists to arrive. Rowena spent that same week under Helga's and the priest's care. The priests, astonished but amused by the fact that a woman could understand them, freely gave them access to the small library stored in the church. Rowena soon grew bored of lying in bed all day, and began teaching Helga to read and write Saxon and Welsh using the books.

Despite the fact that she couldn't really move, Rowena was getting anxious. The lack of constant action was driving her crazy.

"Can't I just go out for a stroll?" Rowena asked.

"No, I'm your doctor," Helga said, unwrapping Rowena's bandages and changing them. "You'll go out when I say so. Stop moving."

"It's hurts," Rowena protested, as the raw wounds were exposed to daylight.

"Would you like a potion solution to the problem?" Helga inquired, concerned at the lack of healing. She was afraid of infection-and she didn't want to lose the warrior princess. She'd become more than just a means of getting home: she was now her foil* and best friend.

"What?" Rowena said.

"Quiet," Helga whispered. "I'm as much as a...as you are. But some herbs have mysterious properties. Let me find them and brew you something that can heal you much quicker than on your own."

Rowena shrugged her shoulders. It was better than being bedridden for another two weeks or so.

"Fine," she said.

Helga disappeared for an entire day before returning with a pot of a mysterious green mixture.

"Here, sorry it tastes like sheep stomach unprepared," Helga said.

Rowena pinched her nose and down it all in one gulp.

"Ouch," Rowena said as a strange sensation began to flow through her body.

Helga unwrapped the bandages.

"Astounding," she said, acting surprised. Rowena's raw open wounds had healed to tiny red splotches on her skin.

"How'd you do that?"

Helga shrugged her shoulders. "I added cottonwood bark, acetone, seaweed, and mushrooms together and this is what I got."

"Rewrap them," Rowena said. "The priests-"

"I know," Helga said, rewrapping the wounds. "I say we leave after the Sunday service. We'll slip out with the parishioners."

"Agreed."

* * *

The two girls resumed packing, with Rowena not helping much due to her wounds still bothering her. Helga had gone outside but Rowena stayed inside. After about an hour, Rowena finally emerged from the church with a bedroll slung under her left arm.

"What was the delay for?" Helga said.

"Just talking to the priests and thanking them for everything," Rowena said. "I owe my life to them and to you as well. Thank you."

She curtsied like a true princess.

"The last thing the priest said to me was 'the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'," Rowena said. "It was a great comfort to me despite my loss. I was able to let go of any hate I have towards that man. They helped me with that."

"I can't say the same for Salazar," Helga said.

"What do you mean?"

"Salazar...uh, I could sense a deep hatred within him. Did you have an outburst last week?"

"I did," she conceded. "That's what I wanted to talk to the priests about. They didn't report me, but said they couldn't help. They said maybe God had a purpose in it."

"Do you believe them?" Helga queried.

Rowena didn't anwser that question.

"Hi," Salazar said from behind them in Welsh, making both of them jump. He gazed at Rowena. "You look well."

"Daighdear," Rowena uttered her Gaelic curse word again, completely surprised. She wondered how he snuck up behind them so quietly.

"Thanks," Rowena said with some disgust. She hated taking compliments from any man.

"Hey," he said, a little affronted. He meant what he said. Most princesses appreciated compliments on their beauty. Or so he thought.

"I despise men who think with their libido instead of their brains."

Helga giggled.

"What is it with you?" Salazar demanded in Saxon, ignoring Helga. He was getting irritated by the Scottish warrior princess.

"I don't trust you," Rowena responded, now getting angry, affronted at his expectation of sudden trust. "I barely even know you. Why should I give my trust to you right away?"

Salazar didn't respond: he had been a little eager to form a friendship with them due to their shared history and a future potential relationship. But he was also heavily offended as trust was essential to surviving in today's environment.

"You too are more like than you'd like to admit," Helga observed in Welsh.

Rowena and Salazar glared at Helga. She immediately turned a dark shade of red.

"Why are you here then again?" Rowena demanded.

Salazar was getting impatient. He wanted to talk to Helga more, after all it was awhile since Salazar had met anyone with any magical powers. Rowena was standing in the way. He tried a nonverbal Confundo spell: just enough to get this woman off of his back.

Rowena saw it and reacted instinctively: she spun in the air and kicked it. Salazar's eyes widened in shock as the spell bounced off of Rowena's foot. The spell, much brighter now, hit him right between the eyes. He toppled over onto his back.

"What just happened?" Rowena said, amazed.

"Don't know," Helga said honestly, dropping to Salazar's side. "Salazar?"

"Bauck, buauuckk," Salazar said, jumping up and down and flapping his arms like a chicken.

"Strange," Rowena said, in awe. "That's what usually happened to my suitors. Take a frying pan to him. That usually works."

Helga went through her things and took out a frying pan she bought-or 'borrowed' at the local market in York. She handed it to Rowena who lifted it and swung it down, hard on Salazar's head.

DONG!

Salazar collapsed again to the ground out cold.

"Let's go," Rowena said. "I'm sorry that I'm being...well me."

"It's okay," Helga said, now understanding more than ever. "It's how you were raised and what you've seen. It's amazing how you manage to keep your humanity after all you've seen and done."

"Thanks Helga, it means a lot," Rowena said, now feeling much better. "Let's go board him in a tavern somewhere and set out on our own."

She was sure that Salazar was going to be furious at what had happened to him. Helga and Rowena took the uncoscious Salazar to the local tavern, paid for his rent and board and took their horses and left for Shrewsbury.

* * *

Salazar finally came too an hour or two later.

"Ooohhhh," he moaned.

"'Bout time," the innkeeper said, walking into his room. "Those 'wo ladies paid 'our 'oom and 'oard.

Salazar rubbed his aching head wondering how the heck Rowena had rebounded his Confundus spell. He'd heard of witches who could nonverbally do spells without wands, but Rowena hadn't struck him as witch. If she was, why hadn't she said so? He pushed the questions from his brain as new information had come to light. The mysterious man Rowena had mentioned, he had to know more. London wouldn't be seeing him for awhile: he needed more intelligence on this mysterious man.

Salazar pondered when the latest of such raid had taken place. They were now so rare that they made national news and traveled fast for the time. The last one he heard of happened along the Welsh border and the moorlands in the West Country, he recalled. Salazar began pacing back and forth, ignoring the throbbing from his head. He knew the name of a noble family, Gryffindor, who were prominent in the national Wizarding community. And their headquarters was less than 100 miles away, Godric's Hallow. He'd stop there, make that his base of operations, and search out the small villages surrounding Kinnersley. Somebody would have to know something.

As for his business partners, they were now rolling in dough thanks to him. A simple message for a two or three week vacation would be easily granted. Salazar wrote a quick letter and went outside and approached the stables.

"Anyone going to London?" he called to the group of men and women.

"Aye," said a man dress in armor. Salazar knew he was a knight.

"Give this to Slytherin and Murdock," he said. "Just outside the royal palace."

Salazar handed the letter and a pound to the man before saddling his own horse. He turned to the south and kicked his horse's side. With luck he'd reach Godric's Hallow within three days.

 **Once Harold reached London, he spent about a week there gathering new recruits, resting his forces, and gathering new weapons. Meanwhile, his southern lords were hounding him to take action against William who was raiding and destroying their lands. As we will see, it had some impact on the battle that would result later on.**

 **Back in this time period, there was no ICC or Geneva Convention on the rules of war. Chivalry was developing around this time, but there were some rules. When a castle or city came under siege, there was usually a agreed upon date between the two forces. If a city was besieged in May and the agreed upon date was August 15th, the garrison was expected to surrender and leave the city/castle. If August 16th rolled around with no surrender, all bets were off. The victors were now free to massacre, imprison, or behead their captives (if the town or the fort of course surrendered). Nobles were to be ransomed back by their relatives, while the common soldiery often faced a much more grim fate.**

 **The church is actually based on a 10th century church in the area, St. Andrews in Shropshire. It's no longer in regular use, but you can still visit and even camp overnight in it. As for the comment on them not trusting each other, it was a major problem. The Scottish tribes like to raid in the north, resulting in a lack of trust. As for Wales, the term 'Welsh' and 'Wales' actually comes from the old English word for 'stranger'. When the Saxons and other Germanic tribes invaded England, the old Latin nobility and settlers fled to Wales.**


	9. Embrassment of Godric Gryffindor

Chapter 8-Embarrassment of Godric Gryffindor

" I've been working my whole life/ Now it's do or die.""Champion", Carrie Underwood

Shrewsbury proved to be a much happier location than Machester or even York. Used to constant chaos and at the crossroads of numerous kingdoms, Shrewsbury would continue to see violance and warfare for the foreseeable future. Yet it's people had developed a small market town into the most stable area in the region. It's promixity to the River Severn also helped as well. It was night and Helga was fast asleep on her lower bunk inside a small inn on the outskirts of the town.

But Rowena was wide awake. She was flexing her hands, trying something. Suddenly, she almost leapt when a small, barely visible wall emanated from her hands. Rowena had accidentally discovered this when she deflected whatever that thing was she saw in the woods, but finally had the time to look at it. Despite her dread of her curse, it now fascinated her. She lifted her right hand up, elevating the invisible wall. She pulled out a small leaf she' smuggled in and let it drop. It floated upon the wall for as long as Rowena wished. She clenched her right hand and it floated to the ground.

Maybe her curse was a gift from God, she thought. Maybe those priests were right. Maybe. She saw first light rising through the open door downstairs. She rolled over, and went back to sleep, smiling inwardly, having finally done something useful with what had been torturing her for so long.

* * *

Next day dawned bright and early for Godric Gryffindor. News of the brigands had reached him at Godric's Hallow and he gathered up what fyrd he could and headed north towards Shrewsbury. He made camp outside the town and had prepared a small operation to snare the leader. Elthered the Brigand was the third most notorious of all the highwaymen in Angland. Growing more brazen with the goverment in crisis, Elthered had come out into the open and was making off with government funds, even women from some of the towns. Godric was to put his reputation as Sheriff of the Moorlands and the best law-keeper in Angleland to the test.

Some 2,000 of Gryffindor's men now waited, ready to take down a brigand group of 600. Godric had spent months playing chess, slowly stripping the countryside of slaves, women, food, and the money needed to keep Elthered's underlings completely happy. Cornered, with their executions already ordered by the crown, Elthered and his band had nowhere to run. Yet with so many men now being called up by Harold, denuding the border country of defenders, Elthered had been having success lately-until Godric cornered him. Now, the Welsh countries would once again be stained by blood, with innocent underlings as always, caught in the middle.

In a tent in a field outside the town of Shrewsbury, Sir Godric, twice as young than many of his subordinates, marched in full plate armor, jeweled sword on his belt. He drew up on his horse.

"Brigand Elthered is over there," he shouted to his men, pointing towards a group of trees at the bottom of a nearby ravine. "The crown has given us one order: no prisoners. Feel free to do as you wish. Leave the women alone, if any. I will personally order anyone who is found harassing any captive flailed alive."

His men shuddered: Godric was a linient overlord who never gambled with their lives, but believed that discipline was key, and he held them to it.

"Charge," he said.

Godric kicked his horses in the sides and he took off with 1,000 men behind him. Below, less than 100 yards away at the bottom of a small ravine covered by trees, lay ignorant Elthered. The silence Gryffindor had enforced on his men also paid off, as the bandits lay fast asleep, their sentries already slain or in bonds. On the other side of the woods, Sir Gavin lead another 1,000 men. In a classic manuver as old as warfare itself, Godric was going to pin his quarry between two giant pincers.

In the small group of trees serving as HQ, Ethreled, a large burly, but surly looking man, was jolted awake. Cursing heavily in Welsh, he pushed out of his tent and into the rising morning sunlight. What he saw made his blood run cold: on both sides black dots and silhouettes were charging through the trees towards his position. They all held a variety of weapons that looked ominously like axes, swords, and other instruments of war. His worst nightmare had come true. He was surrounded on two sides and he could see the first men of Godric's small army emerging into the trees.

"Send the word," he said.

Runners went out from his tent to wake up the men, but it was too late. Many of the runners never made it to the units they were supposed to be awakening. Ethreled could only watch as a small skirmish turned rapidly in a massacre. Often in bunches, entire units of his men, asleep in their tents, or fighting bravely, were easily cut down by vengeful Saxons from Gryffindor's units. It was made worst by the fact that many of the men Godric commanded were locals and had been suffering Elthreled's attacks for years. Within seconds, Godric's men enveloped Ethlreled's tent, stabbing and spearing the guards within. Ethlreled grabbed his sword and charged at the nearest Saxon warrior, aiming to impale himself on the man's ax.

DONG!

Ethlreled collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious. A man wielding a flaxen wooden drum stood behind him. Not good for killing, Godric had found this little instrument normally used for separating wheat good for knocking out prisoners. Elthreled was dragged in his stupor out through his tent, bound and gagged to the feet of Sir Godric.

"Got him," Sir Gryffindor said. "Sir, what is your name?"

"Me?" the man holding the waxen drum asked.

"Yes."

"Iker," the man, dressed in chain mail armor and a helmet anwsered.

"Go home, you're exempt from the draft for this year," he said.

Iker buried his surprise, bowed to his lord, and left the tent, leaving the waxen drum in the hands of Godric.

"If we catch the other two brigands by week's end," Godric announced. "All of the rest of you will be deferred from the fyrd call up for another year."  
A cheer went up from among the men. Many of them had just returned from the southern coast where they'd been on call up duty all summer, awaiting an invasion that never came. Most of them weren't in any mood to go on another campaign.

Godric had already sent 700 more men to join the 200 or so he'd left at London. That was what his quota demanded for his king. But his men didn't need to know that.

Many of the fyrd now dispersed to their local towns and hamlets to await the next major operation of Godric's campaign against the brigand lords. Many of them, now fired up, were ready to chase anything even remotely resembling the highwayman. Sadly, Helga ran afoul of several of them this morning. Her lungs heaved, her forehead was covered in sweat, her dress had rips along the fringes, and she was panicked. Behind here was a group of 10-15 fyrdman, recently discharged from Godric's unit. They chased her like a pack of bloodhounds after a hare, yelling 'thief' all the way.

She berated herself for finally giving into the tempation. For weeks she'd seen Rowena steal with ease and undetected, either before or after by the merchants. _Just one apple, the biggest, juiciest apple on the cart, why that apple?_ she thought bitterly. It had been too much to resist.

"Thief," came from behind her as one of the men who had been chasing her for some 20 minutes finally spotted her again.

She sighed: why wouldn't they give up? She leaned against a cart, wishing for her wand. She'd left it in a wooden hallow just outside the small inn they were staying at.

"Rowena, where are you?" she whispered to herself.

Helga had wanted to show she was self-sufficient. Now she was being pusnished for it.

"There she is," came in Welsh. Now that they were traveling along the Welsh border, Welsh and Saxon were spoken as equals in these border towns.

Helga turned and began to run again, her legs protesting mightily each step of the way. As she rounded a corner, a hand yanked her into a dark alleyway and her pursuers vanished pursuing a non-existant Helga. She recognized the breathing: it was Rowena. How many times did she owe her life to this mysterious Scottia Princess? Rowena had a arm around her stomach and another on her mouth. After several minutes, Rowena let her go.

"What was that?" Rowena demanded, her hands on her hips. She was wearing a plaid dress that she'd purposely run down to blend in with the locals. Still, Helga cowered under her gaze. "Thief?"

Helga looked away, her eyes burning with shame. It was a action that wasn't missed by the princess.

"You did, didn't you? Really?"

She couldn't look Rowena in the eye.

"Look at me," Rowena said, cupping the Welsh woman's face, forcing Helga to look her in the eye. A mischievous smile slowly worked it's way across the princess's face. "What happened to the sweet, rule abiding girl I met three weeks ago? Aren't you supposed to be gathering herbs in the forest rather than stealing them off of the carts?"

Helga giggled.

"I just want to be like you," she confessed. "You're so..."

"Terrific, awesome, pussshhhaa," Rowena snorted, causing Helga to stare. "Thieving isn't honorable. It's only for surivival and cowards."

Rowena gave Helga another hard look and lead her back into the streets.

"There she is," a group of three men said, surrounding the two women. "And a accomplish?"

"Ooha, aahh, f******, ouah, s****," the men yelled as Rowena kicked them all in the groin area in quick succession.

"RUN!" she shouted at Helga in Saxon.

Helga ran like the wind, newfound strength come from pure adrenaline. Unfornunately, it drew the attention of many of the other men search for them and soon a posse of some 20 men were after the two women. Rowena wondered how in the heck the odds had gotten so bad so fast.

"We need a horse," Rowena called out to Helga. "Keep an eye out for one?"

Suddenly, as if on que, a horseman came riding up the center street at a gallop and came to stop in a lane ahead of them. It was a knight, but what choice did they have?

"There, take the side alley," Rowena said, now feeling a little winded herself.

"What?!" Helga nearly shouted, but Rowena grabbed her hand and shoved her into the side alley.

Sir Godric Gryffindor slowly directed his horse down the lane leading into Shrewbury. He could see a small number of his fyrdman wave to him as he went. A drink and a nap awaited him at the Shrewsbury Inn, both sorely needed.

"Thief!," he heard to his left.

Godric looked to see a small posse chasing after two women, one of whom dashed-or rather was shoved- into a small alleyway between two buidings. Theft accusations were largely hearsay, but as Shire lord, it was Godirc's job to see that justice was done and the innocent set free. He galloped his horse down to the alleyway to block the exit. As he came to a stop, he saw a dark something heading towards his face out of a nearby tree. He stopped to stare and gasped: he knew that face. It was the woman who had disarmed and had tied him up at the Scottish border.

WHAM!

That very same woman now kicked him hard, in the helmet.

"Ohhhaaahh," Godric yelled as he went flying.

He was thrown off of his horse and into a English ivy bush, entangling himself in it's vines. The woman kicked his horses hauches and it took off to Godric's horror. She plowed it through the masses, grabbing another woman up on the way. Both spoke to each other in a language Godric had a hard time deciphering. He tried to get up, but his armor was now firmly entangled in the stick and overgrown vines. In addition, the ground was damp and rather like quicksand.

"Get me out of this," he snarled to some snickering fyrdman nearby.

* * *

Five hours later Godric was finally free of the English ivy bush. The vines had become entangled in his armor, trapping him along with it. In all, it had taken five hours to free him and two or three more to rid his custom made metal of all of the vines. And that woman! She'd burned and kicked his rear end, not once, but twice. He ached for a way to regain a little of his honor. But again, she was gone, even though a charge of theivery had now been lodged against her.

Godric got up on his prized horse again, now well rested after being recovered a mile or two outside of town. Despite a massive search, nary a woman even close to resembling the ones that Godric saw was found. He pushed it out of his mind for now: he had two more brigands waiting to be caught.

"Please Helga, stop the close escapes," Rowena chided lightly once they'd escaped out of town and into one of the smaller Welsh villages. "You'll owe me so much I'll have no choice but to steal enough money to pay off your debt."

Helga giggled at the light jab. They were at the top of a Welsh hill overlooking the narrow valleys to their left and right. They were getting close to Helga's home. She personally couldn't wait, thrilled at the journey, but also she had started to worry immensely about her patients. Other healers were in the area and could pick up some of the slack, but Helga considered some of their antidotes quack medicine.

"Well, so ahahh," Rowena shouted as something slammed into her. "Hey!"

"Sorry," said a familiar voice in Saxon.

It was Salazar. Now dressed in a brown hood, he looked like Helga two hours prior.

"Daighdear," Rowena cursed again. She'd never want to run into him again. But he was very winded, and Rowena noted he had the look of a hunted man written all over his face.

"Who are you running from?" Helga asked in a incredulous sort of voice.

"Them," Salazar said.

A red beam of light hit the tree next to them, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Rowena looked: it was the same band of men that had attacked them a week prior. Suddenly, one of them shot a beam at her. She closed to eyes: a flash of light illuminated her eyesball, but it didn't do anything. She opened her eyes to a horror sight: she was creating the invisible wall. Red streams were impacting it, but dissipating. It was a barrier, a shield of some kind. She looked at Salazar and Helga, who were looking at her in amazement.

"Don't just stand there," she shouted at them. "GO!"

A sound like the shattering of glass radiated throughout the grove. Rowena collapsed, her Protego shield shattered into a million pieces. Helga and Salazar grabbed the unconscious girl and hauled her behind a rock near a small stream. Helga pulled out her wand and began to return the favor. Salazar took over with her wand in addition to his as she attempted to revive her friend.

"Come on, wake up," Helga said, panicked, shaking the princess. Rowena was out cold.

"I can't do anything," she called to Salazar.

"I can't hold them off forever, now what?" Salazar shouted back, shooting off several more red streams.

"We haul her outta of here," Helga said. "Gimme my wand."

Salazar handed her wand back. She ducked down, and spotted the log behind which their assailents had taken refuge.

"On three, shouted 'Expulso," she said to Salazar. "And then duck down behind that rock."

"What?"

"Just do it," Helga shouted at him. "One, two, three EXPULSO."

Salazar did as she asked. Everything that happened next seemed to Helga to be in slowly motion. Two red streams of light erupted from their wands and went straight towards the hillock the men were hiding behind. Unnoticed by their assailents, the streams of light blended in with the spells being sent their way, until they emerged from the fireworks display. The men behind the hillock stopped firing, watching the coming light with curiosity.

"Pro-"

The two streams of light impacted the ground just below the log and below the feet of the men tasked with taking out Salazar. The log blow up, shattering into thousands of tiny wooden shards.

"What the-," the men yelled as they were showered with wooden splinters.

"Is Explulso this powerful?" one of them asked in Welsh.

The ground at their feet began to shake.

"What the-" one of them said.

The ground below up from under them.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

An enormous pile of debris blew dozens of feet into the air. Rock, dust, and the log fragments blew to smittereens, shooting fragments dozens of feet into the air. The entire hillock the hoodlums had been hiding behind and on simply shattered into fragments. Helga and Salazar hid behind a log, watching debris land among the forest.

Behind the debris came three bodies. Like their failed predecessors, they too flew into the forest or blackberry bushes. Only a small crater remained to mark the spot where they had hid.

"Hurry, we gotta go," Helga said, getting up from her riding place. "Let's go before more of them show up. The horses are this way. You'll have to ride Eagle."

"Okay," Salazar said, grabbing Rowena's feet. She was right: if there were three of them, chances are there was probably more.

Together they hauled her off to the horses.

* * *

Awhile later, a pair of eyes slowly forced their way open. Rowena's blue eyes finally opened, eliciting sighs of relief from Helga and a unkown source. Rowena's eyes flared open in panic until she saw the familiar, yet annoying face of Salazar Slytherin. What did he want? She looked and saw the two parked around a small campfire. Small pieces of wood had been taken and neatly arranged around the fireplace to form beds and some benches.

"What happened?" Rowena asked, her memory still fog of what had happened.

"I don't know," Helga said. "You tell me."

"What is there to tell?"

"Everything," she said, now very excited. Now was the time to tell her everything. She'd showed she truly was a witch. She'd controlled Protego without a wand or using words. "You're a witch."

Rowena simply froze, her gut telling her to run for it.

"A what?"

"A witch," Salazar said, coming out of the woods. "You have magic."

"No, it's a curse," Rowena demanded, causing both of them to jump. "Why are you bringing up false accusations? They can get all of us burned at the stake."

"I'm one too," Helga said. She pulled out her wand and nonverbally caused a rock to levitate in mid-air.

That did it for Rowena. She wanted nothing to do with these people. It was too dangerous, the fate of the witches in her father's kingdom coming back to her. She tried to run for it, but she was exhausted. Helga tackled her to the ground, but Rowena put up quite a fight.

"Help me," Helga whispered to Salazar.

Together they managed to finally subdue her, but not until Salazar had a aching shoulder and Helga had a minor twisted ankle.

"Let me deal with this," Helga said to Salazar.

It took Helga until the early morning hours to finally calm the dispirited Rowena down. Eventually, Rowena took to giving her the silent treatment. But Helga, used to unocooperative patients, didn't give up.

"Say Protego," she told the trapped princess for the sixtieth time. "Come on, stop being a wench."

Rowena felt her resolve cracking. Despite what she had been taught, her insiticnts told her that what Helga and the priests had told her was right. Her father was wrong, yes it was a curse, but a curse that could be controlled.

 _Helga, please just go away. I won't ever say 'protego'..._

Suddenly, the shield appeared. Rowena jumped, but her exhaustion overcame her again and she fell flat onto her bottom again.

"Did you think it?" Helga said, excited.

Rowena nodded barely, a tiny bead of excitement trickling up. If she could do that, what other things could she do?

"What other spells do you have?" she eagerly asked Helga. Helga smiled.

* * *

Morning came, and Rowena hadn't slept one hour. She couldn't. A whole new horizon had been opened for her. Overnight, she'd mastered Levitation, Protego, Stupefy, and a spell she'd just invented for block other spells. Well, almost mastered it, she thought. She hadn't fully learned control at all. Once she levitated into a blackberry bush and now had scratches all over her left leg.

After breakfast, Rowena was back to her usual self.

"Alright," she said. "We're off."

Salazar started packing up his things. Rowena threw him a hard, emotionless look that Helga was becoming accustomed to.

"What?" Salazar protested. He was intriqued by the story of this mysterious princess. He wanted to learn more.

"Don't you have merchant jobs to do?" Rowena asked with disdain.

The tension erupted in the air between the two of them. Helga could see the two were far from becoming friends.

"Alright, that's enough," Helga said, coming between the two of them. "If I hear one more snarl I'll hex your buts off."

Rowena and Salazar both flinched at this. This was completely out of character for Helga. Salazar also realized his wand was missing. Helga was holding it.

"Now, we're going about 20 miles furthur south to where I used to live," Helga said, pointing the wands at each in turn. "Keep the peace for one day and then you can hex the joints out of each other if you want."

Helga took her best friend aside.

"Rowena, you are my best friend okay, but we need this," Helga said. "Just 24 hours. Then we'll send Salazar on his way. When we get to my home, we'll be safe. I promise. I figure we need all the protection we can get. We've been attacked two times by those men. Who knows how many they'll bring this next time."

Helga watched, standing on pins and needles, wondering what was happening behind Rowena's blue eyes. She couldn't tell what the princess was thinking. Neither could Salazar, who was watching them from behind a tree. Salazar puzzled over this: how was she such a Occulmens? He'd encountered nobody as good as she was. Every memory she had was attached to a violent one. If he delved too deep, he was sure she would drive him insane.

"Okay, one day," Rowena conceded. "I don't trust his kind. They sold arms to our enemies, allowing the wars between our peoples to never end. They're just in it for the money, magical or not."

Helga saw she had a point. They returned to the grove.

"I don't trust you," Rowena told him straight up, making Helga's heart skip a beat. "Your 'goods' cause all sorts of problems for my people. You have until dusk to show me you're different. After that...let's just say all bets are off."

 **Fun. I never expected four such different people to ever become friends overnight. And sometimes the people you dislike the most are those that remind you of yourself.**

 **Shrewsbury was exactly as I described. Four hundred years later a major battle would be fought outside the town during the Welsh rebellion. Some 30,000 men participated in the Battle of Shrewbury as part of the Welsh rebellion against English rule. Later battles like Blore Heath and others would be fought nearby. Yet the town endured, today boasting a huge cathedral and a massive museum dedicated to the aforementioned battle. Back then, it was the local headquarters of the English garrison, with commanders like Prince Hal, later King Henry V of England.**

 **As for Legillimency (I'll correct spelling later, it was difficult enough getting this chapter out), Snape later said the brain was layered, not like just a book to be read. That's what I'm going off of. It seemed it was mastered in a different way by each individual. Rowena's way obviously, though she doesn't know it, is her life. Read and review! Until next time.**

 **And, I'd like to leave a commendation to Beedle. St Andrew's Church in Shropeshire where Helga, Salazar, and Rowena spent the night and later a week was found through a recommendation. I highly recommend the story The Divide.**


	10. Blessed Day

**Chapter 9-Blessed Day**

 **"Every trainer has a choice/ To listen to the voice inside."-Pokémon Season 7 theme**

"Salazar no," Helga pleaded silently.

Salazar had a Muggle family hanging up in the air abducted from an outing in a nearby meadow. The look on his face was absolute fury and hatred: the Muggle father had tried to report them for witchcraft. Now he was levitating them in the air. Slowly they floated around, turning upside down and to the side. The wife floated upside down and her dress started to fall. She screeched and pulled up the flap to avoid being exposed.

Meanwhile, Helga was trapped on the ground, her hands and legs glued to the sides of her brown dress, her wand laying beside her useless. One minute Helga was gathering herbs, then the next she was hearing Salazar yell "Petrificus Totalus" and she was down.

Helga huffed, equally angry as Salazar was if that was even possible. _How did I get caught off guard? This is no coincidence that he chose to stage this stunt outside of Rowena's sight._

"How'd you like us witches now?" Salazar said, savoring every moment of this.

"Please, put us down, we promise-"

"SILENCIO!" Salazar said, silencing the wife. "I don't trust promises at all."

BANG! A sudden force scorched Salazar's behind.

"What the-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

His wand flew out of his hand and Rowena Ravenclaw, clad in her plaid traveling dress exploded into the clearing. Helga wished she'd never get on Rowena's bad side as much as Salazar had. Rowena's hair was frizzled from running through the woods, she had a hawk-like expression disfiguring her face.

She surveyed the situation, saw that it worse than she had suspected and moved so fast she was standing over Salazar before just as he stood up with his wand. Fury lined every inch of her face, she stopped, dispersed the Protego shields, and stared at him for what seemed like hours. Salazar just froze, wand at his side, Helga went completely silent. It was as if the world had stopped for a moment, waiting for what judgment Rowena was going to give. Salazar tried to penetrate her mind: all he got was battle scenes that nearly made him throw up. She stood up to her full height, turned away and then suddenly slammed her right hand, her sword arm, into his right cheek.

"What are you thinking?!" she shrieked with the voice tone that made grown soldiers cower in her presence.

Salazar spun into the air, completely surprised by Rowena's strength. On the ground, wide-eyed Helga suspected that it had something to do with her warrior upbringing. Moreover, Rowena had nice long, manicured fingernails that her maids had worked on all her life. Salazar and Helga had noticed that Rowena still obsessed over them, lovingly maintaining them every morning.

Years of paint, supplements, and constant fussing had strengthened them to the point that they were almost impossible to break without an instrument. Salazar found this out the hard way. Her fingers gouged deep into his cheek, leaving five bloody cuts across his cheek, part of his nose, and into his sideburns. He rolled into the dirt, screaming in pain and shock.

"Stay down!" she shouted at him.

"AAAAHHH!" the Muggle family of six screamed as the levitation charm holding them above the ground broke.

Rowena swung under them and used Wingarduim Leviosa nonverbal. The family floated just above the ground, still screaming, but alright. Rowena thought the countercurse to the Body-Bind while Salazar stayed on the ground, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Helga put them to sleep or something," Rowena yelled. She couldn't let them escape yet.

Salazar got up to try and intervene, or just to stay something in his defense.

"Stupefy," Helga yelled, pointing her wand as Salazar.

 **BANG!**

For the second time, Salazar's wand flew out of his hand as the red jet of light slammed into his face. He keeled over without a groan. Helga pulled a small vial out of her dress, having brewed a little bit of the Draught of Living Death a few nights before.

"Stay clear Rowena," she shouted as the family floated slowly down to the ground.

She threw it onto the family and they sunk into a deep sleep. Rowena gently levitated them to a soft piece of ground.

"Amazing, how...?" Rowena asked Helga. The princess already suspected what had happened, but she wanted to know every detail so she could put Salazar in his place.

"I modified the potion to be used in an aerial form," Helga informed her.

"What happened?"

"Well, that family saw us practicing and tried to run to the nearest village to report us," Helga said, horrified. "Salazar lost control."

Rowena felt most of her anger towards Salazar evaporate: he must have a big grudge somewhere against Muggles buried in his belly. _That's what set him off,_ she thought. Still, she was still shaking with barely controlled fury with him. He'd nearly got them burned at the stake. A lapse of judgment like that was inexcusable.

"That's doesn't excuse him," Rowena reasoned. "What should we do with them?"

"Wipe their memories," Helga said. "Then let them go. It's the best we can do."

"Obliviate," she whispered six times.

"Just leave them here asleep," Rowena said, checking each of their pulses to make sure they were alright. "We'll let them wake up and wonder how they got here. Can you revive Mr. Temper?"

"Not yet," Helga said, pulling out some rope Rowena had just stolen 24 hours earlier. Rowena had reasoned that they might need it.

Rowena and Helga tied Salazar to a nearby tree. Rowena and Helga made sure that they used the same knots that they used to tie their horses to posts.

"You know, I would've used magic for this," Helga whispered to the Scottish princess.

"I know, but I feel better doing it by hand," Rowena whispered back, keeping her fury buried.

"Ennverate," Helga said, pointing her wand at Salazar's chest. Rowena kept Salazar's wand safe deep within her dress.

"Teach me that later," Rowena told her.

"Sure."

Rowena was mastering spells at an alarming rate. Overnight she'd mastered nearly every dueling spell Helga knew. The Welsh healer was sure she could best any witch or a wizard in a duel by this point. Not that it would help Salazar much though.

Salazar's eyes slowly opened, then he realized that he was tied, bound, and nearly gagged. He stared at his would-be friends with defiance burning in his green eyes.

"What was that?" Rowena demanded in a very dignified, regal yet terrifying manner. She'd spent years perfecting this face for use on underlings and suitors. Salazar quivered under the terrifying gaze, but he didn't falter.

"They tried to report us," he said. "I had to stop them."

"Not sufficient," Helga retorted. "Why?"

"Because..."

"Because...keep going. I can't wait to hear your excuse," Rowena said, crossing her arms.

"I...they massacred my family years ago and confiscated my lands," Salazar confessed. "What would've you done if that happened to you?"

Rowena had to admit to herself that she would've done the same thing to the men who sacked her castle if she could get her hands on them. She was really no better than him, as much as she hated to admit it. Still, it was no excuse. She was on the verge of untying him when Helga gave her a warning look.

"I gave you a chance and you just nearly blew it," Helga almost shouted at him. Rowena jumped: she'd never seen Helga lose her temper before. "No one gets hurt under my watch, especially Muggles. I understand how to lose a temper, but you nearly got us killed.

Helga bowed out, letting Rowena have a go at him.

"Longantach," Rowena cursed at him.

"What does that mean?" Salazar and Helga demanded together.

"It's Ravenclaw Gaelic slang for the guy who nearly got us burned at the stake and biggest idiot ever. I'll be judge, advocate, and jury here," she continued. "Where I come from, stupid acts like that are unforgivable. One more longantach move and you'll have much more scorched than just your rear end."

 _Diffindo.  
_

The ropes cut in half and Salazar was freed. Helga waved her wand and the ropes binding Salazar magically repaired themselves and coiled themselves into Helga's newly acquired satchel.

"I'm confiscating your wand," Helga informed an increasingly disgruntled Salazar. "Until you prove that you are better than a wannabe to be burned at the stake, or you leave us at the end of today. Which will it be is up to you."

"One more mistake," Rowena warned him in a deathly tone of voice. She swiped her finger across her throat in a cutting gesture.

Salazar gulped, now thoroughly afraid.

Helga placed Salazar's wand with her's in a pocket deep in the fold of her dress.

"Rowena, keep a close eye on him," Helga said, turning away to gather up their things.

"With pleasure," Rowena said, cracking her knuckles and throwing Salazar a look that thoroughly terrorized him.

* * *

Nobody talked for the next three hours. Round noontime, Salazar finally tired of the enforced silent treatment Rowena and Helga were subjecting him too.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he finally said.

"'Bout time," Rowena chuckled, savoring every moment of it. "Ego finally deflate for ya."

"Hey, how're you speaking Welsh so good," Helga asked.

"Some magical help and study," Salazar said, glad the silence was finally broken.

"We're about to my house," Helga announced out of nowhere.

"I thought your house was in a major city or town," Rowena said, puzzled as they were in the middle of the woods. Rowena thought that she lived _next_ to the woods, not in the middle of them.

"Are you kidding?" Helga said. "Middle of the woods, plenty of solitude, things to do, and herbs to find. As a matter of fact, my dwelling is just up ahead."

She kicked her horse's sides and sped up to a trot.

"Eagle?" Rowena said in Gaelic to the horse.

Eagle immediately kept up with Helga's mount, with Salazar drifting behind to avoid the murderous gazes of the two women.

"It's right here..." she said, her heart sinking to the ground.

It was a horrific scene. Bones were scattered everywhere, and what had been Helga's hut was nothing more than a burnt pile of ash. Her potions, carefully stacked herbs, all gone. She got off her horse and fell to her knees, tormented by sight around here. All those patients who were depending on her. She felt hot, fresh tears start to stream down her cheeks.

A pair of arms encircled her and she began to sob into Rowena's chest. She wet Rowena's blouse for what seemed like hours.

"It's okay, it's okay," Rowena cooed, keeping a close eye on Salazar, who was inspecting the scene around them. There was no way to shield Helga from this. Rowena felt her heartache for Helga, the sweet innocent girl she'd met three weeks ago. She'd prayed that this moment would never come.

Rowena meanwhile, was looking around the clearing, stunned a the scene before her.

"I need to see my patients," Helga finally said through a pile of tears. "Let's go."

"I don't know about that," Salazar said. "Let's find out what happened here first. Then we'll go find your patients."

"Okay," Helga agreed, wiping away her tears from her blotchy red cheeks. Rowena outvoted 2-1, didn't say anything.

Salazar explored the damp ground around them and found horse tracks leading away and in. The perpetrators clearly hadn't bothered to hide their route.

"Someone came in this way," he said, setting the scene. He'd seen this happen before with his manor. "Along with the poor people right behind them. Surrounded by armed men most likely."

They spread out, looking for clues on the ground. Rowena meanwhile, examined the bones that were scattered around the clearing. She was careful with them as each one represented a person who had just lived. Used to constant warfare, she'd seen those in the morgue do this after major battles or a murder happened. Rowena pulled out her sword for comparison, hoping to find some cut or wound marks on the bones.

"Strange," Rowena said, examining some of the bones. "That's weird."

Helga came over to her.

"This was a healthy individual," Helga said, taking the bones from Rowena and verifying her conclusions. "I've set and regrown enough bones to recognize a healthy individual when I see one."

"They're just, dead," Rowena said, looking at the rest of the skeleton.

'What you'd mean," Helga and Salazar said together.

Rowena picked up a femur and a skull and showed it to them.

"Nothing to indicate a forceful death. A morgue worker once told me that many warriors go for the head when...going after someone," Rowena said. She rotated the skull around. This individual was perfectly healthy. No sign of disease. Believe me, I know. Many of the tribes collect trophies. What else did you have to do when you were locked in a room full of bones for three days."

"Long story," Rowena added, seeing shocked looks on their faces.

"It's like he just dropped dead," Helga agreed, trying to control her emotions. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Killing Curse," Salazar said, darkness and dislike crowding his face. Killing somebody without a cause in his book was despicable and messy. You leave evidence behind. Simply modifying memories was much better and easier.

"There's a Killing Curse?" Helga and Rowena said together, shocked.

"Yes, Unblockable and deadly," Salazar said. "But it takes a lot of hatred...I mean a lot...practice and magical skill to conjure it up. Only the darkest wizards seem to experiment or seem to achieve anything like that stuff. My uncle Gaunt was one of them. He was chock full of hatred and a powerful wizard. I saw him in the barn one day practicing that spell on spiders. Avada Kadavra, ...don't say or think it Rowena please, you don't know what might happen...but the spell backfired on him somehow. He was dead by the time I got to him."

Rowena meanwhile, had found what she was looking for.

"Hmm," Rowena said. "That's not all.

She picked up a complete backbone and the plates that made up it.

"Look, cut marks," she said, showing them it. She pulled out her sword from her belt and matched it perfectly to the cut. "Sword or dagger thrusts."

"Combined wizard/Muggle task force most likely," Salazar concluded.

"Really?" Rowena and Helga said together. Neither could imagine something like that was even remotely possible.

"Not all Muggles hate or burn witches at the stake," Salazar informed them. "Some cooperate and do horrible things in exchange for magical influence, favors, or because they've been bewitched. There's a controlling curse too as well. I've never used it before, but I know the incantation."

"Why?" Helga asked no one in particular, sinking to her knees, muddying the hem of her dress. She checked several more of the skeletons. She could sense the healing of some of her potions, their magical qualities causing tingling in her skin. But some of the bones had holes in them, signaling disease.

"You know Helga, I wonder," Rowena said, pacing back and forth so fast it dizzied Salazar and Helga. "Did you tell anyone about your cottage?"

"No," Helga said, still kneeling. "I traveled from village to village on foot and sometimes by horse. I never told anyone where I was going.

"Maybe it was you they were after," Rowena theorized.

"Me?" Helga said, now completely in shock.

"Isn't it strange that it's your hut has been burned down, and there are at least the remains of a dozen people scattered about it," Rowena continued. "Maybe they were appealing to your compassionate nature. It wouldn't be too hard to find out with how well known you were."

Helga was frightened, a sudden realization dawning on her.

"It doesn't seem a coincidence that we were attacked by the same men either," Helga added. "Could they be the same people?"

"What does it mean?" Salazar asked, still puzzled. Solving riddles wasn't his strong suit.

"Let's let it rest for know," Rowena said. "I wanna give these a proper burial."

"Use my hut," Helga said. "I already have a new home."

"Huh?" Rowena and Salazar said together. Surely she'd want to rebuild?

"With you," she said, giving Rowena a surprise hug. She paused for a moment, trying to recall something. "..for whether thou goest, I will go: and where thou lodgest, I will lodge."

Rowena recognized the quote from Ruth. Helga pressed on.

"I have nowhere else to go. Please, I promise I won't be a burden anymore. Besides, you need a healer anyways."

Rowena wasn't sure what to say about that, but Helga had a point. She would need to teach this feisty innocent young gal to fight first. She made a mental note to do that later.

"Let's first intern these bones, then find a safe hiding place for the night," Rowena told Helga. "Salazar, still haven't made up my mind yet. Don't make any plans yet."

"A priest?" Helga inquired.

"Too risky," Salazar said, trying to change Rowena's mind. "Let's conduct a brief memorial service then get out of here."

"Sometimes my tribe would be forced to bury our dead outside our settlements without the presence of a priest or monk, usually after an ambush or major battle," Rowena informed them. "We had a short, but beautiful Christian ceremony we used in Gaelic. I attended enough that I know the words."

"Okay," Helga said, pulling out her wand. "Not yet Salazar."

Rowena simply shrugged her shoulders and gave him a false pitiful look when Salazar looked at her for help. Within five minutes, Helga had buried all of the bones in the hut and had cleaned all the ash and any sign that it had been a hut, away. Rowena gave a brief ceremony in Gaelic, concluding with

"Is e am nàmhaid mu dheireadh a thèid a serious bàs, " She translated into Saxon and Welsh for her audience's benefit. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

"Beautiful," Helga said, wiping away her tears. "Let's go. I doubt I have any more patients around anymore. They were probably frightened off by the massacre. Still, I wanna check around some."

"Make it quick," Rowena said. "I have a bad feeling about this place."

"So do I," Salazar dared interject.

Rowena suddenly dropped and pressed her ear to the ground.*

"Hoofprints," she said, surprising and impressing her two companions. "Somebody's coming."

"Maybe a Caterwauling Charm," Salazar surmised, surprising the two women with his knowledge of magic unknown to both of them. "A charm designed to alert to intruders. It would make sense if you returned."

"Let's leave a little surprise," Helga said, still trying to control her emotions. She might be compassionate, but she wanted to leave a little surprise for those who dared tried to kill her. "Trip Jinxes."

"Good idea," Salazar said. "Wand please."

"Only two minutes, then give it back," Rowena warned. Salazar chose to ignore the jab: he shook his head, wondering how he was coming to like hanging out with them so much despite their distrust of him.

In two minutes the two had surrounded the entire area with the spells.

"Hurry, we got to GO!" Rowena shouted at them. Salazar handed his wand back over to without a word of complaint.

They remounted their horses and sped off into the rising sun.

Five minutes later after Rowena, Salazar, and Helga cleaned out, a series of horses bolted into the clearing. Six of them were cloaked, while the rest were in armor and dressed for battle. The combined Muggle/Wizarding force barreled into the clear, sword and wands draw.

"AHHHHHHHHHH" the men all shouted at once.

Trip jinxes activated, tripping up the horse. Soon it was raining riders as the horses tripped, and bolted, leaving their riders behind.

"Great, another embarrassing failure," one of the six hooded men said. "And the Hufflepuff healer and Ravenclaw girl are gone, again."

"We'll be punished again if we fail again," the third one chimed in.

"Wipe the memories of the Muggles," the first man whispered. "Master Merwyn won't need to know about it. All he'll find out is that a deer tripped the Caterwauling Charm. It's known to be ineffective sometimes."

 **So, I promise that after this we'll be seeing a lot more of Salazar and Godric Gryffindor than just brief snippets and their characters will be explored a lot more while still featuring Rowena and Helga as well. I've just had a lot of fun with these two girls and the depth of their relationship.**

 **All of the spells mentioned are in the books and their listed effects are their effects. I_magine Rowena and other powerful magical beings could modify magical spells to deliver a brief burning sensation rather lighting Salazar entirely on fire. The opening scene is based on the Quidditch World Cup and what the death eaters did to the poor Robert Muggle family.**

 **As for Rowena pressing her ear to the ground, it's an actual thing. Sound waves travel through solids faster than gas. Sam Houston used this when he was readying his men to go to the Battle of the Alamo when he listened to the ground for the rumbling of a cannon. He didn't hear any and chose to retreat rather than advance into a trap. Native Americans used it to listen for buffalo, while ice age hunters supposedly used it to listen for mammoths and giant antelope. It's possible some militaries, both ancient and modern, used it to listen for hoofsteps or the footsteps of thousands of men marching towards them.**


	11. Historical Events

**Just a note and a major event setting up the next major section of this work.**

Major Historical Events

Battle of Hastings

 **The day had finally arrived. Both kings had gathered 24,000 men from Europe and England to contend for the crown. Harold arrived, hoping to surprise William like he had done to the Vikings three weeks earlier at Stamford Bridge, but William was not caught off guard. Facing an alert Norman army, Harold retreated north towards London with the Duke hot on his heels. Finally on a rise near the Old Roman road leading to London, Harold pulled up his forces. With no cavalry or archers, Harold had his 10,000 men formed a shield wall, a massive line of men locking their shields together. He gave an order that no man should let a chink form in it. If he could hold it, he would win.**

 **A few minutes after Harold arrived, Duke William arrived with his multinational force of Bretons, Normans, and Frenchman. Upon first sighting Harold's line, the experienced William could see that he'd chosen a good defensive position, high on a rise on the road to the capital.**

 **Looking up, the Normans could see it was going to be a long and bloody day. Two players across a massive chessboard, Duke William of Normandy, or King Harold of England. Only one man would walk away with the crown while thousands would die fighting for it.**

 **At 9 a.m., the battle for the crown of England began.**

 **William's archers raised their bows, and let loose an arrow barrage that proved ineffective. William made the first move. He sent in his infantry and cavalry against the shield wall. All he had to do was break it and victory would be his. But Harold's fyrd men, bolstered by Harold's elite, held firm. For three hours, men pushed, slicing with their axes, swords, or whatever they could get their hands on to fight. Every now and then a man fell with a scream, his life suddenly ended. The carnage ground on, meaning something eventually had to give. Finally, a group of Norman Bretons fled for their lives, ignoring William's orders, fleeing back down the rise towards their main camp.**

 **Flushed with victory, it was too much to Saxons behind them charged down the hill after the Bretons, determined to slay them. An eighth of Harold's troops broke ranks, and both commanders now settled down to play their next move of chess. Harold, according to some historians, could have ordered a charge that would've sent the unorganized Normans fleeing for their lives. But he didn't: William lead a charge of knights and infantry over to the fyrd men now trapped in a marshy area. Surrounded on all sides, Harold's undisciplined troops were cut down one by one.**

 **As the battle moved on with thrusts and counter thrusts, Harold found himself in deep trouble. His elite troops were dying at a alarming rate, which meant his less disciplined fyrd man were being forced to service in the front line. Only nightfall would serve as his savior, which would allow him to gather more reinforcements and bolster his shield wall. William was aware of this, and his patience was wearing thin. Repeated forward thrusts against the shield wall were costing him men, material, and time.**

 **After a break for dinner, William prepped every man he that could still walk or run. Finally, William made his final attempt before sunset. He ordered one more barrage of from his archers. A wave of arrows preceded the final assault, many of them succeeding in overthrowing the shield wall. A wave of Saxon collapsed, many of them high ranking commanders, causing mass chaos in the rear ranks. Panic began to set in the militia rear, and some men fled from the field. For those who stayed, including Harold, what the Duke had in store for them was a good old dose of Norman tactics.**

 **Sensing weakness, the Duke combined all of his forces into a single human mass. Spurred on and infused with new energy by the chaos, a massive wave charged towards the weary Saxon army. Horses thundered uphill, infantry charged at top speed, and more arrows caused more Saxons to fall.**

 **The Norman juggernaut slammed into the shield wall like a tidal wave against a beach. The weary fyrd men could no longer hold the shield war against it. Chinks formed in every inch of the line and Normans began to flood into the unprepared militia standing behind it. Confronted with battle hardened Normans, many fyrd men fled into the neighboring woods rather than stand and fight. As the Saxon army was torn apart, a group of knights sought out the English king. Finding him, they literally tore him apart.**

 **As night fell, the cream of the crop of the English army was nowhere to be seen. Bodies littered the battlefield, left to be entombed in mass graves. The loss for the Saxons had been total. Some 4,000 men had died, against some 2,000 Normans. Many villages, lord-ships, and shires lost their entire male population, and by now, the entire English elite forces were all gone. Harold and all of his top nobles lost their lives, leaving the country leaderless. The English government completely collapsed, and Angeland was ripe for the taking. Some 10,000 more Normans now flooded in behind William, all ready to take advantage of the newly conquered land, ripe for the picking. No lord was safe, not even a Norman supporter like Godric Gryffindor.**

* * *

A messenger thundered down the road to Godric's Hallow with a sad missive. Just 48 hours after the battle had ended, a messenger had reached the hallow so quickly. The last line read...

 _Harold is dead._

As much as Godric did not like the chivying Harold line, the tales told him by the few survivors who had began to trickle back into the area of his small band told him all he needed to know. William was far more deadly and serious than he ever imagined. Had he underestimated the new invader? It was only a matter of time of before William became king. He went outside to think, looking eastward towards London. What did the future hold for his community? Head too clouded with thoughts, he decided to go into the village for a drink at the local tavern.

* * *

Rowena and Helga had carefully selected a corner of the tavern where they could eat and drink what was left of their stash in peace.

"You haven't stolen anything around here yet?" Helga asked, worried, finishing off a load of barley bread.

"No, I'm not that stupid," Rowena said through a mouthful of beef. "If I was going to, I'd go to some other village."

"Do you have to steal anymore? I mean we're safe," Helga pointed out. "I could start..."

"Helga please," Rowena said, finishing her last drink of stout, a local drink commonly deemed too heavy for women. The bartender was still a little dazed from meeting the Scottish princess. "For the thousandth time, I won't spend our emergency funds unless I absolutely have to."

"I think we have fellow brethren in our midst," Helga said, glancing over to a group of men and women busy chattering in another language, weird sticks in their pockets. Unlike Helga, Rowena understood every breath of their conversation. She didn't like any of it. They were Normans, chatting up their latest exploits.

"I think it's time to vamos," Rowena whispered to Helga. "Just in..."

"Seize her," said a voice that made everyone jump. Rowena and Helga looked up: and locked eyes with the knight they'd tied up three weeks ago.

"On second thought, let's skip paying our tab," Rowena said, launching herself out a nearby door, followed by Helga.

"Nicely," Helga answered, following the Ravenclaw princess out, and right into Sir Gryffindor.

The three ran into each other, splaying onto the ground in all directions. Godric's was the first up: it was them!

"Seize them immediately!"

The women were surrounded instantly by men of arms. Even Rowena didn't dare fight when outnumbered forty to one.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come here," Helga whispered, hands up.

"Sir Gryffindor wait, ooohhhh," said a familiar voice. Salazar emerged into the area, surveying the ungainly scene before him.

"Godric, what are you doing?" he asked, folding his arms.

Rowena and Helga both swallowed their gasps of surprise.

"Putting these women back in their place," the infuriated knight replied.

"These women saved my life," Salazar said, astonishing them even further. "Your captives are Helga Hufflepuff of Wales, former slave. And that is Rowena Ravenclaw of Scotia."

"Oh," Godric said, still not fully believing his good friend. "Ravenclaw...why have you stolen my honor?"

Helga and Rowena both were in shock. The very lord they'd were seeking refuge from was the one they'd embarrassed-and tied up-long ago.

"We seek sanctuary Sir Godric," Rowena said, curtseying with the air of a princess. "My title is Princess. My clan was destroyed almost three weeks ago. I've been on the run with my Welsh friend ever since. She was taken into slavery and has no home."

"I cannot," Godric said with no hesitation.

"Why?" Rowena demanded in a voice that made many of their onlookers almost faint. How dare a lady speak to a knight like that?

"You took my honor."

"What honor? Your men tried to rape us. Have you ever been raped, or forced to have sex against your will?" Rowena almost shouted. She was in a towering rage by now. "Let me help you understand what we go through. Often you are tied down with rope, your clothes ripped off your body as bloody sucking daighdear, cowardly s****bag thugs take turns inserting their worms into your body. Sometimes you end up carrying their rape baby later on. How'd you like it if your spouse was ever raped?"

Gasps were elicited from the crowd.

"I had no intention of doing anything like that," Godric said, horrified at Rowena's description. He was sure there was a personal experience tied to it.

"As a knight, it's your job to keep your men in check, or punish them afterwards for their violations. You failed on that night."

"Enough," Salazar said, impatient. Now was his moment to shine and curry favor in the eyes of these witches. "There's only one way to decide this for once and for all. Personal one-on-one combat."

"What?" Sir Gryffindor almost yelled in surprise. No woman he'd ever encountered had been trained to fight.

"She can fight," Salazar said, his star rising fast in Rowena's eyes. "I've seen her best fighting men before. Regain your stupid honor."

"Fine, agreed, tomorrow at noon on the village common," Rowena spat, spitting onto at Gryffindor's feet. "Bring your best bottom. When you land on it, it might hurt."

Sir Gryffindor couldn't back down now: his chivalry had been challenged, but a woman of all people. Crafty Rowena had deployed one of her mother's favorite tactics: back your enemy into a corner and when he comes out swinging, wipe him off of his feet. She stormed off, with Helga at her heels.

"Why'd you do that?" Helga asked.

"Because only gaining his respect will he give us sanctuary," Rowena whispered back. "I intend to win."


	12. Duel

**I settled for more of an informal setting, because, as far as I am aware, the great tournaments really didn't come about until the 1100s. That's when the strong monarchies and lords became established, and throwing a jousting or sword fighting tournament was a way to flaunt your power to your subjects and your rivals.**

 **Duel**

Next day noon dawned bright and clear without a sign of a cloud in the sky. A place had been staked out and hundreds of people had turned out to watch something they'd never seen before: a woman take on a knight of Angeland.

A small plot of grass in the town square had been marked out with ropes and the format had been declared by a third party: four foot long sticks. Whoever pushed their opponent out of the square first would be the winner. Over time, the square would tighten until someone was forced out. That lucky somebody would be declared the winner. Word of the match spread like wildfire and a crowd of hundreds showed up from many small villages dotting the local moor.

Sir Gryffindor entered from the left, to lots of applause, dressed in a red tunic & trousers, with his lion emblem on his chest.

"Wow, he's popular," Helga said, putting the finishing touches on a small, short cut dress that enabled quick movement. Likewise, it had the blue eagle, the symbol of her tribe, embroidered on the hem. It was to be the eagle against the lion.

"What'all happen to us if you lose?" Helga asked as she tightened the hem to allow Rowena complete movement, but prevent her opponent from using her dress to their advantage.

"Don't worry about it," Rowena said, walking towards the square without a care in the world. She entered, with applause equal to that of Gryffindor.

A tall, muscular masked man who dwarfed everyone else approached the two combatants. He held two four feet long, inch thick sticks in his hands.

"Any last words?" a masked man asked, approaching the two combatants. This was the local executor, who also was the one who over saw the local jousting, archery, and sword fighting tournaments. Nobody knew his identity, as he lived somewhere on the moor, and always disappeared into the woods before going home.

"Just one," Rowena said. "Do you wanna lose?"

"With pleasure," Godric said, confident. "Wait. What?"

"GO!" said the masked man.

Rowena attacked with a fury of blows that surprised the good knight. She could fight! Godric got his footing and met her blow for blow. Only royalty could fight like this: she rivaled the Viking and Pictish warriors he heard about from his childhood. But, he was a knight, and this was his forte. Godric began to use his weight and superior strength against Rowena, slowly forcing her back.

Rowena went low, Godric blocked, only to see her stick coming up at his face. He leaned backwards, the stick just avoiding his face, and the embarrassment of being flattened out on his back.

 _Finally an equal,_ Rowena thought after the opening clashes.

Rowena changed her fighting style: from sword to a traditional spear fighter from the Scottish highlands. She launched into a plethora of stabs and blocking attacks: it was all Godric could do to block the new style. Sir Godric adapted, using his jousting training to his advantage, parrying her relentless thrusts. They whirled around each other, going so fast their sticks could barely be seen

The crowd cheered at the display going on before them. Never had such a duel taken place in years. Not since when Harold Godwinson had come to visit his cousin and had hosted a magificant tournament had such a match happen. The executioner watched silently, clearly impressed by the display. Several potential suitors in the audience even began cooking up schemes and plans to marry the warrior princess.

Rowena and Godric switched to to traditional sword combat. Here was the fiercest challenge to either side. They parried, chopped, and thrust at each other. Slowly, Godric's bigger build and strength was taking it's toll on the young princess.

Godric, meanwhile, pressed on with his advantage, realizing she was tiring as his superior weight and training took hold. Right when he thought he had victory, Rowena slammed into his chest. Both sticks fluttered into the air and both combatants crashed away, far beyond the boundaries of the square. Stunned silence greeted the result. Nobody had ever seen like it before.

"Who won that one?" Helga asked, helping Rowena to her feet.

"Depends on how biased the executioner is," Rowena muttered back in Welsh.

The executioner though, proved to be quite unbiased. He examined the marks in the grass, then, seeing how Godric's foot was closest to the square, raised him to his feet. The crowd exploded in astonishment and Godric came over to shake Rowena's hand, but she refused to give it to him.

"What?" Godric said, dismayed at the lack of chivalry.

"I am a princess," she retorted coldly. "You curtsey to a princess, especially a homeless ally."

"Oops, sorry," Godric said, bowing slightly. Finally, a bemused Rowena gave him her hand: he lightly kissed it before turning to receive another round of applause.

"I would like to congratulate Rowena Ravenclaw of Scotia for her bravery, something all Gryffindor have exemplified throughout our line," Sir Godric said loudly. Turning to both of them, "I'd like both of you to be our guests for dinner."

"What did he say?" Helga asked, confused.

"Some fight," Helga said some hours later, nursing Rowena's bruise. She'd suffered no major damage except her pride: never had she been defeated before by a man, much less a Saxon. She was only going to the dinner because they needed shelter, and it wasn't prudent to disappoint your future host.

"Let's get dressed," Helga said, throwing open a nearby closest and ruffling through some dresses. "What do you want, purple or blue?"

A squeal behind her nearly made both women jumped. Both jumped to find a short, plump woman behind them. Her brown hair partially concealed her face, but Rowena knew those soft, warm brown eyes that had comforted her from childhood.

"Princess Rowena," came a very familiar voice from behind the two, speaking in Gaelic. "Princess?"

"Mina?"

Both women hugged each other quite, both crying in astonishment. Helga looked at both of them with a curious expression.

"Sorry," Rowena said, switching to Welsh. "This is my handmaid, Mina."

"How'd you do," Mina said in prefect Welsh to Helga, who was taken aback.

"Mina was also Welsh, sold to our tribe," Rowena explained, now jabbering at a thousand miles a second with excitement. "She taught me Welsh, I taught her Scotia and Gaelic. She was the mother I never had."

When they pulled apart, Rowena had dislodged a stick out of Mina's back pocket. It shot off a series of sparks, creating a look of panic on Mina's face. With just a thought of "accio," the wand flew back to Rowena's hand.

"You learned to control it!" Mina shouted in a voice that made Rowena profoundly grateful that nobody else could understand what her former maid was saying.

Once the door had been closed, windows shut, and silencing spells placed on the walls, until they could talk freely. Helga introduced himself and her background before Rowena finally broke up their conversation.

"How'd you survive?" Rowena eagerly asked her, everyone now sitting against the walls.

"I didn't," Mina said. "I was on the bottom level. I faked dead among the corpses before escaping into the main town. What about you?"

Rowena related their three week ordeal and 400 mile journey to Godric's Hallow.

"Oh, quite the magical journey," Mina said. She suddenly changed complexion and to Rowena's astonishment, she bowed deeply. "That means you're now Queen. When are we going to take back our kingdom?"

"Enough of it," Rowena said in a curt voice that, lifting Mina from the ground. It was time for her handmaid to face the facts."What is there left to be Queen of? Only a few survived the massacre, the kingdom is gone."

"No it isn't," Mina retorted, shocked and in disbelief. "You don't know?"

"No, we've been on the run for the last three weeks."

"But princess, we need a leader."

Rowena was now in full panic mode. She'd finally come around to the fact that she was free, tragically free from all her royal responsibilities. Helga had never seen her this frightened...she could never remember Rowena scared at all. Now her past was back, in full force and ready to torment her for all it was worth.

"I... _I..._ can't..."

"Why?" Mina demanded, hands on her hips, advancing on the princess. Mina had such a commanding presence, everyone had sat up straighter whenever she entered the room. Hence why "You're the Princess, now the only remaining Ravenclaw, everyone else is presumed dead. It's your birthright and responsibility now. Your people are depending on you whether you know it or not, my _Queen_."

"I...I" Rowena said weakly, backed into a corner. Every counter argument she could muster sounded weak. "I...can't...I'm a _witch..._ "

"That's no...forgot about that complication," she said. "I never understood why your father implemented such a rule."

Rowena sat down and put her head in her hands, her past troubles coming to haunt her. Helga pulled the princess into a comfort embrace.

"Mina, it's just complicated, I can't do it...yet...And...it's just so...complicated..."

Mina put a sympathetic hand on the princess's quaking form. As the royal maid, she knew it wasn't as simple as she made it sound.

"The people are alright," Mina continued, trying to take the pressure off of Rowena. She'd persuade the princess to come back to Scotia and take her rightful place. Just now wasn't the time. "Even if you didn't go back they'd survive. I wouldn't blame you. A neighboring kingdom has given the people shelter."

Rowena gave her chief maid a royal hug of relief. Mina though, didn't fully return it. Inside her mind, she was brainstorming ways of getting Rowena to change her mind. _She will return and become queen,_ Mina thought. _Non-magically, I'll find a way._

"Thanks Mina."

"Mmmhhh," Helga said, causing everyone to jump. "Let me remind you Rowena, we still have dinner and a host to impress."


	13. Dinner

**Chapter 13-Prelude to Adventure**

"I am just a girl chasing her dreams and having an amazing adventure."-Madeline Stuart

"So this dinner?" Helga said, trying to keep up with Rowena and Mina's quick strides.

The edges of their dresses flared out as they headed towards the small church in the center of Godric's Hallow. Sir Godric had convinced the local monks to lend it to them for the dinner tonight.

"What is the eqituette required for a dinner like this?" Helga asked, pulling up the hem of her yellow dress as she climbed a small path through the village.

"None," Rowena and Mina said together. "Men are pig eaters. Just smile, look beautiful, impress our hosts, and then roast their rear ends if they try anything."

Helga winced, something that didn't escape her companions attention.

"My mother always said that, but since we're...I made up the part about 'roasting their rear ends'," Rowena finished.

They stopped at the large wooden doors of the small church, and looked at each other. Rowena straightened out a curl in Helga's hair, while Mina helped arrange the princess's so that it flowed more naturally down her back.

"Ready to rock the night?" Mina said to them all.

"Always," Helga said, flaring out the hem of her dress.

The doors were thrown open to the small church, arranged exactly like the one that Rowena and Helga had taken refuge in a few weeks prior. The ladies walked in, and the stain glass windows seemed to shine a light on each of them in turn. First came Rowena, in a petite blue dress that emphasized her warrior form, her black silky hair flowing naturally around her shoulders. She had torn the hem, exposing her up to her thigh on her leg, a disgrace in Angeland but accepted by the Scottia elite. Behind her came Mina, in Ravenclaw sky blue, walking as majestically as the princess, the results of hours of practice under Rowena's tutelage.

Last but not least was Helga Hufflepuff, in a full yellow ball gown, carefully and magically laced with white thread, her blonde hair in curls lovingly worked upon by Rowena and Mina. All attracted stares from their audience, Salazar, Sir Godric, and Gavin.

"Sonorus Welshio," Gavin, Salazar, and Godric said with their wands as the ladies entered. Helga and Mina couldn't speak Saxon.

"Welcome Princess Rowena and friends," Sir Godric said, standing along with Salazar and Gavin.

Mina giggled: Salazar was wearing robes of emerald green, so much that he could easily blend in with a grove of trees. But Sir Gavin and Sir Godric were radiant, with tunics proudly displaying the roaring Gryffindor lion on their chests.

"Let's eat, and then Princess, you can appraise us."

The feast was big, with delicacies from almost every land within 500 miles. It included goose meat from Lancaster, fish from the North Sea, and olives from Venice. Despite the lavish offerrings, everyone ate a modest amount, except Rowena Ravenclaw. Having suffered from years of meal and food withdrawals as punishment for her insolent behavior towards her father, she took advantage of every food opportunity that presented itself.

"How do you eat so much?" Helga asked, after seeing the princess work her way through her fourth goose leg, and that was after a full sheep's stomach.

"You think this is much?" the princess asked through a mouthful of apple.

"Where I come from, this is a lot."

"She's right," Salazar added.

"Ok Princess," Godric said, when they had all finished. "We're all listening.

Rowena, Helga, and Mina all took turns relating their story. They moved Salazar, Godric, and even Sir Gavin was on the edge of his seat, with their tales of escapes, near rape, and close calls.

"Well, those are quite some stories," Sir Godric said, after Rowena had finished her story about the theft in the marketplace. She deliberately left out the part where the two of them had stolen Godric's horse to spare the knight furthur embarrassment.

"Well Rowena," Godric said, leaning back in his chair. "You can stay here as long as you like. Mina here has told me you are all witches."

"Yes we are," Helga affirmed, placing her wand on the round table.

"Even here, we have to be careful," Godric said. "The policy may seem brutal but is nessescary. 'Keep it down, keep your crown'. I don't mean a metal crown, I mean the top of your head that is."

"Oh," Mina and Helga said together.

"Well, there is one more condition on which you may stay here," Sir Gavin added. "There are dark Wizards-"

"What are dark wizards?" Rowena interjected.

"You don't know?" Salazar and Godric asked together. Everyone in the wizarding community knew about it: the community was being terrorized by the Normans and dark wizards gone amok at that very moment.

"It's not like I've known I'm a cursed woman for very long."

"Oh, but how is that?" Godric asked, amazed. From what Salazar had told him, Rowena was a powerful witch. She was the only one he knew of that could do magic without a wand. How was she cursed?

"I was cursed as a child by a witch," Rowena explained. "And given powers I didn't learn to control until a few weeks ago."

Mina's brain almost jammed. Rowena had said she was a witch... _unless she lied about what she really thinks_ , Mina thought. A candle was lit in her brain and it began shooting at a million miles a minute. _Why did she lie? It makes no sense...she doesn't want the post because of some dark reason, or event that's holding her back. Was it her father's abuse? Or her brothers? Was it that event...….I must find out_. _It's the key to Queen Rowena Ravenclaw._

"Okay, we need as many as we can get," Sir Gavin continued. "We're forming a small party to take down a particularly nasty group currently running around on the Welsh moors. Now, there is a element of danger, here."

"Like we have a choice," Helga pointed out, in Rowena's ear.

"We'll do it." Rowena replied, volunteering her entire party.

From then on, more stories were exchanged, before the dinner finally broke up two hours later. As the three ladies left, Godric dismissed Sir Gavin, letting Salazar accompany him back to his quarters.

"Godric, why?" Salazar demanded, wondering why he involved the three newcomers. "There are no wizard or witches alive in the Welsh Marches that we know of. It's just the Muggles."

"Salazar, we've been through this before," Godric said, a heavy warning in his voice. "All are alike unto me. If you have a problem with that, you can run back off to the Fenways."

"Sorry," Salazar said, a little taken back, yet still mutinous.

"Well, what about Rowena?" Godric said, stopping, and glaring intently at Salazar.

"What about her?" Salazar asked, put on the spot.

"It's obvious she isn't of Wizarding parentage. Does that classify her as below your station?"

"No, of course not! She had no choice, being cursed at such a young age, clearly a attack against her anti-magical fanatical father. The fact she can control those powers is a miracle in and of itself."

"Good. That's how we operate here Salazar," Sir Godric said, turning back towards his personal house. "Everyone has a right to choose. Wizards don't have that luxury. I actually envy Muggles, if you must know."

"Why's that?" Salazar said, astonished, trying to keep up.

"They can go about their daily lives, worrying obsessively, but we are of a greater knowledge, always having to keep to ourselves, keep our lives are secrets. As a noble, it becomes burdensome."

"Ya know," Salazar said, struggling to control his anger. "That fool named Merwyn had been preaching that for sometime now. 'Muggles beneath us, we must rule them'. He converted nearly the entire magical community in a small area of East Anglia."

Sir Godric stopped in his tracks: he'd never heard this story from Salazar before. "What happened?"

"Well they tried to follow his vision," Salazar said, his voice filled with bitterness. "According to rumors, they killed some 2,000 Muggles and subjugated two small towns before they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. An entire wizarding village, some 400 men, women and children were burned hideously at the stake or died horribly violent deaths. My father's efforts to save them proved in vain."

"Well, you could say that was self-defense," Godric pointed out, still not fully absolving the Muggles of the breadth of the crime. _Is this the cause of the hatred that burns so deeply in Salazar's belly?_

"That wasn't the worse of it," Salazar said, muting his friend. "Merwyn ran away with his tail between his legs, abandoning his followers. Showed how much he truly cares about those who follow him. Muggles don't deserve that: we may be superior, but we don't deserve to rule over them."

Sir Godric's eyebrows went up: he'd never heard Salazar's views like this before. But it still didn't explain everything as to why Salazar hated Muggles so deeply: Helga had sought him out after the dinner and related to him the incident with the Muggle family and how Rowena had stopped it. Godric tried to hide his chuckle, but really couldn't.

"What are-don't you dare," Salazar said, reading Godric's mind.

"I'm sorry," Sir Godric said, now laughing hysterically. "The way Rowena subdued you is so hilarious. She choose to scorch your rear before making you sit on it."

"Don't say another word about that," Salazar said, wishing he were elsewhere.

"Don't try anything like that again, Salazar," Godric warned him. "For one thing, I'm sure Rowena will give you a worse fate that simply having your but singed."

"So tomorrow," Salazar said, eager to change the subject. "We're really going to do this."

"Yes we are," Godric said. "I've got you, me, the Warrior Princess, Sir Gavin, Helga the Healer, and Mina the Maid. A motley crew to be sure, but it'll be what we need."

"Merwyn better be not among them," Salazar warned, now grimmed faced. "He killed my uncle, one of the greatest duelers in all of Angeland. We'll never stand a chance."

"We'll be careful," Godric reassured Salazar. "We've got it covered from every angle. Unexpected things will happen, but with such a diverse group, we'll be unstoppable."

"Get some sleep, you'll need it in the morning."

 **I personally think Slytherin House really gets a bad rap in the books. I just think Salazar's pro-pureblood views were taken out of context and exaggerated by those like Lord Voldemort who were looking for any thread to support their anarchic beliefs on. There's no canonical evidence that he ever considered to go that far. Now, we do know that later in his life, Salazar descended so low as to conceal a basilisk snake, a creature with killing methods so effective, so that his 'true heir' could pure the school of those deemed unworthy to study magic. I don't know if this story will go that far, but we'll see. In a stoke of pure bad luck, Lord Voldemort was his heir, discovered the entrance-and was soon consumed by far grander designs than just purging the school of Muggle-borns. Thus Salazar's and his beliefs, ultimately ended in failure with the death of Lord Voldemort**


	14. On the Moor

**Chapter 14-On the Moor**

"Friendships are this fun team. You get to have partners in crime."-Kiernan Shipka

The scouting party of six people left at daybreak, heading west towards the lawless Welsh border. It hadn't been easy for Rowena to convince Mina and Helga to come along. Only when she pointed out it was continent on them having a place to stay did the mutiny largely stop-almost. Since then, both of them had made her life hell ever since they left that morning. She knew eventually they'd patch things up between them, but for now, the stoic Warrior Princess was giving them the silent treatment as retribution. The fact that Salazar and Godric also refused to talk to the two ladies made it nearly unbearable. It took four hours before someone finally cracked.

"Rowena talk to us," Mina pleaded, highly bored and overtense from her nerves. "We're sorry."

"I did what I had to do," Rowena said. "As I've done ever since I left my home."

"It's true, we've haven't bought anything for weeks," Helga confided within herself.

"What was that?" Sir Godric asked.

"Nothing."

They rode on, only occasionally exchanging conversation until Sir Godric decided to try and pry more information about the Scottish Princess out of her. He'd noticed that she was quite pretty, and being unmarried for her age was interesting.

"So Rowena," he said.

She threw him a look that chilled any feelings he might have for her. She'd seen right through him, but he pushed on.

"Tell us about yourself," he exhorted her.

"I'm the Princess of Ravenclaw, warrior, cursed by a witch, what else is there to know?" Rowena said, her temper close to the surface. "You already know about our journeys here."

"I mean before you came here."

Rowena was taken aback: no one had ever shown interest in who she was before this came about. Not even Helga had dared broach the subject the two weeks they'd journeyed together.

"Well, I," Rowena said, flattered. Everyone perked up: she'd been so secretive that no one execpt for Helga really knew anything about her other than she could fight, do effective magic, was ravishingly beautiful, and had a chilly exterior that made it difficult for others to get along with her. "First, you must all promise to share about yourselves."

"We promise," everyone chorused together.

"Good, or I'll hex all of you if you hesitate."

Everyone shuddered: Rowena's progress was amazing. She'd become a highly qualified witch in such a short amount of time, it atonished everyone.

"Well I, hate my family," she said. "That's why I don't want to go back north ever again."

Mina's heart was sinking: the odds of ever getting the princess to return had sank to near zero. She knew better than anyone the truth behind the words. _Maybe, I have to tell her._

"Princess," Mina said, drawing everyone's attention. "I haven't told you this, but your entire family is dead."

"What?" Rowena said. "That's not possible."

"It's possible," Mina said. "Some of the men that survived the ambush saw them executing them. They were looking for you."

"Me?" Rowena said, atonished. Of what value...she stopped herself. There would be another time to consider this new bit of information. Up until now she had wondered why they had attacked. She now had a possible motive.

"Back to my story," she said, changing the subject. "I'm the fifth of ten siblings born by two queens. My father was a ruthless man, executing any who dared challenge him. The curse placed on me probably unhinged him I guess. He would kill anyone who showed the slightest hint of magical power."

She stopped, to collect her memories, and keep track of where they were heading. They were now passing the last village before the lawless frontier and moors that separated the English towns from the Welsh.

"When I was a young'un I was cursed by a witch, and spent the next 20 years trying to control my magic. It did one good thing: all my suitors ended up acting like chickens or doing disgraceful things in the end. I was nicknamed the cursed princess, but that didn't stop men from trying to wed me."

"Probably a Confundus Charm," Godric and Gavin said together.

"Maybe, well that's enough about me, Helga, you're up next," Rowena said, nominating her best friend.

Helga threw Rowena a dirty look as everyone's eyes turned to her. Like the princess, Helga felt her past better remain in the past, especially in the company of such much noble blood.

"Well, I was raised a peasant girl on the outskirts of a small village," she said, consicous of everyone staring at her. "Few knew of our existance, I stayed at home while my father was a soldier and my mother, who was a witch, taught me everything I know. Her mother taught her and so on down the centuries."

"Your father was a soldier?" Sir Gavin said, atonished.

"Yes he was, but he loved my mother with all his heart, and that overrode any desire for money or lucre for turning her over to witch hunters. When I turned eighteen though, everything changed. A plaque swept through the area, claiming the lives of thousands-including my parents. They sent me away to the heart of Wales to avoid it. When I returned, all I found was fresh graves."

She wiped away tears from the newly resurfaced grief invading her heart.

"Then one day I was out gathering herbs and I was kidnapped by brigands," Helga said. "Before they could do anything with me, one of them took me to Shrewsbury and sold me to a wealthy merchant. He took me north where Rowena freed and allowed me to come south with her."

"Mina, you're next," Helga nominated her.

"Not much to tell," Mina said. "I'm the royal handmaid to Princess Rowena Ravenclaw. I was her wet nurse when she was just a baby..."

"Do you really have to be that detailed?" Rowena interrupted her, heavily embarrassed.

"Sorry," Mina said, biting her tongue. She needed all the clout she could muster with Rowena at this moment in time. "I served in that position from age 15 to the current day. I raised the Princess and have been in that position ever since. When her family beat her, I was there to clean up her wounds and heal her wounded ego." _Now I just need to find out how to convince her to take her place on the throne._

"Sir Godric," Helga said in a sweet, false voice.

"What?"

"Your turn."

 **Hey everyone, I know it's been awhile, but this is about to pick up. William of Normandy is about to enter the picture as king and that threw British society into turmoil. I also have another fanfict I'm working on, Estranged, focusing on the Bones family and the first Squibs born into that line in over 300 years, how the family reacts, how they try to get to Hogwarts, and much much more.**


	15. Duke of Normandy Part I

**First a response to one of my newest follower's reviews, Aka. I liked your review: romance really wasn't on my radar for this story, it's given me something to think about. When you throw different people together, things can happen.**

 **Chapter -Bad News**

 ** _"Love all, trust a few, do harm to none."-William Shakespeare_**

"Well?" Mina said.

"No," Salazar said, refusing to say anything.

"Fine, I'll go first," Sir Godric said. "Not much to tell. Grew up under my father, was raised as a knight to take over my father's lands when he died. I'd say I've done a good job so far."

"Same as Sir Godric," Sir Gavin said. "I was actually a wanderer from what used to be Mercia*, but Sir Gryffindor saw something in me I didn't see in myself and gave me a home. Sir Godric has continued the tradition."

"Hmm, Salazar?" Rowena prodded, prodding her horse to catch up with the former nobleman.

Salazar tried not meet her eyes: the memory of a scorched rear end was coming back to haunt him.

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "My family once owned the entire Fenways of England. We were the most proud, noble wizarding family in all of England."

"Years ago, our houses once went to war," Godric whispered to Helga and Rowena. "Now things are more civilized."

Rowena huffed silently: things were far from civilized in her book. None of them had ever grown up with ever warring clans.

"...then one day, they were all massacred. We all were, every witch or wizard within fifty miles was hunted down."

"How?" Helga, Mina, and Rowena said together.

Rowena was especially shocked: the wizarding community usually remained in hiding quite well. She couldn't understand how such a large massacre could have taken place. Not that she was a stranger to such things: she could recall at least five such things she'd heard about or had witnessed had taken place under her father.

"That's the mystery of it," Salazar finished. "Hopefully these bandits will have an answer. The same thing happened in a small village in Wales, very near to where we are going."

"Sir," came from behind them.

All turned to find a winded knight riding up to them.

"Pervical?" Sir Godric said, confused.

"A missive from William of Normandy," he said, holding out a tightly sealed scroll embossed with William's seal stamped on the front. Sir Godric took the letter from him and read it, his gaze growing ever more worried.

"Looks like the Duke wants all nobility in London on Christmas Eve," he said.

"Why?" Salazar said, coming over to look at the missive.

"Looks like he's finally taken over the country," Sir Godric commented. "He's near Godric's Hallow. He wants an audience with all the local nobility."

He rolled up the scroll.

"Sorry, but we've got to get back."

With that they turned their horses around and broke into a gallop, heading for Godric's Hallow.

* * *

Salazar was furious. Not only had he been cheated out of an opportunity to investigate the meaning of the massacre, but now he had other business to tend to: ingratiating himself and his partners in the eyes of the new king. Problem was that many of the weapons used at Hastings to kill Normans had been stored in his company's warehouses. He was sure his partners were either dead or very panicked. It would take a few days to comfort them down. But first, befriending the new king was his most important task.

Rowena faced the opposite problem: she had nothing to give the new king anything of worth. Her people was gone, their castle taken, her personal servants and knights all gone, nothing of worth. The three girls sequestered themselves in the house Gryffindor had lent them. It was a basic peasant's house, but the three found it quaint, and before long it had been thoroughly cleaned out, sprouted curtains at the windows, flowers in the beds outside, mended furniture, a second floor, and three feather beds upstairs.

Upstairs, the three had set up individual walled off dressing rooms where they could each dress in privacy. She dressed herself in the best blue dress she could find in Godric's Hallow, and let her black curls dangle loosely down her back. Mina imitated her mistress, wearing a sleeveless dress, while putting her hair into a bun.

"Do we really have to do this?," Helga said, emerging from behind her dressing walls in a white and yellow ball gown.

"Sure we do," Rowena said, using some magic to fix some mends on her blue dress. "He's the new king. We are now part of Godric's household and must perform as such."

She pulled the Welsh girl to a chair and began to work her hair into curls. Mina joined in as well, herself very well experienced in doing many a noblewoman's hair over the years.

"Helga, where do you get such luxurious locks?," Mina asked, pulling out a knot in Helga's blonde hair.

Helga blushed deep scarlet: she never expected such compliments from nobility, much less royality or someone with as much experience as Mina.

"Keep your chin up my Welshwoman," Rowena said, looking her in the eyes. "Your new story is that you are the daughter of a local Welsh lord who was killed in combat with a Saxon army. Lord Godric gave you refuge in return for your subjection to him and the king."

"Really?"

"Yes, you are now Lady Helga Hufflepuff of Bangor-Is-Coed, a town no one has ever heard of nor will know where it is. Your mother and father names were-"

"Caron," Helga said. "My mother's name is Caron and my father's was Brythonwen."

"-of Bangor-Is-Coed," Rowena finished. "Congratulations Helga. You are now a noblewoman."

Mina finished Helga's curls.

"Okay, now give us a turn," Mina said, backing off. Helga twirled in her new dress for her two friends, both of whom squealed with adoration and delight.

"How do I act in the presence of a king?" Helga asked, now positively terrified.

"Easy, keep your head down, avoid his bedchamber, and don't backtalk no matter what you do," Rowena said, fixing the last of her curls, and fluffing out her dress. "Helga, when we are done, Mina and I are going to teach you how to dress properly."

"What am I doing wrong?"

"Everything," Rowena said, impatiently. "Mina, can we turn her from a peasant into a noblewoman in a few weeks?"

"Yes we can," Mina said, completely confident in her abilities. "In two weeks you'll walk, talk, and act like noble Welsh women."

"I'd like whom I am thank you," Helga said, rather gruffly.

"Then, fake it," Rowena retorted, creating patterns with magic on Helga's dress. "One mere incident could spell trouble for Gryffindor, especially if the rumors about William are true."

"What rumors?" Helga asked.

"You don't want to know."

* * *

"So, what did William do?" Salazar said.

"Well, the rumor is that Godwinson's mother requested her son's body for burial, but William refused," Sir Godric said.

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious. William needs the nobility, not the populace to accept him as their king," Sir Godric replied, pulling on a shirt of chain mail. "This is his wooing campaign. The last thing he wants to do is create a shrine to a fallen hero. As lord of the Welsh border, I can bring 5,000 men into the field."

"Why didn't you bring 5,000 to Hastings?"

Salazar had a talent of seeing what was obvious and this was a touchy subject too far. No one would know of the treachery Sir Godric had engaged in before and after Hastings. No one.

"Salazar, what I do is what I do," Sir Godric said, putting on his lion tunic. "And what is necessary is political survival. A thousand of my men perished at Hastings because two kings refused to make peace or find a solution to a political problem. And that to me, is unforgivable."

"War is war, men die," Salazar said replied, putting on his snake emblem tunic, astonished at Godric's attitude.

"Strange, your words echo those of your Muggle counterparts."

"They do not!"

"YES THEY DO! Bite your tongue or I'll banish you."

"Godric? Why?"

"Because," he said, buckling his rubied sword to his belt. "William is suspicious of all of us. He commands the finest army in all of Europe, both Muggle and magical. With Britain added to his realm, he has made himself a power player equal to Charles Martel* of old, but not quite as big as Charlemagne. But conquering is easy, taming is the next part. We have to be careful. Or _none_ of us will have our heads."

After trying on their outfits, the six spent the rest of the day arranging William's welcome. Food was brought from all over, a lavish feast. He set the best cooks, including Helga, to work creating Norman dishes, and he had the ceremonials robes pulled out and washed in a nearby creeks. Squires ran too and fro, polishing armor and getting horses ready. Stands were set up, ready to host a massive tournament in the new king's honor.

In the small church, Sir Godric again borrowed it from the local monks for the feast itself. Meanwhile, Mina and Rowena helped out the best they could where they could. They helped wash clothing, bake food, and even slipped in a little magic in on the side to help the tasks move along quicker.

"So, why is the king coming here?" Helga asked, as Rowena helped wash some very stinky knight's clothing in a nearby creek. "And why are you helping me?"

"Because, it's important I know the rigors of a maid," Rowena informed her. "One must have perspective in all things and places."

Helga looked at her friend inquisitively.

"So, about you?"

"What about me?"

"Your kingdom. You are Queen, right?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Nearby, Mina had stopped what she was doing: she raced to a nearby grove of trees, concealing herself within earshot of the two girls. She was constantly on the hunt for any information she could use to persuade her Queen to return and lead her adopted people to glory again.

"Rowena please, as your friend I must speak the truth."

"The truth can be anything you want it to be," Rowena retorted, hanging up a shirt on a clothesline.

"The truth is that you have an opportunity to perhaps help your people. You are a princess whether you like it or not. You _must_ save your people."

"Since when did you become a royal expert?"

"Since I began hanging out with them, largely by no choice."

Rowena sighed, pulling some clothing out of the stream. Helga had a point.

"Right now there is no one to rescue, " Rowena said, eager to put the subject to bed. "My people are dead, or scattered to the wind. What is there to rescue? Right now I have to find another purpose in the world. Princess isn't one of them."

"Don't you think you should find out?" Helga queried.

"How?"

"I don't know...ride up there...or something...use"

"...Magic?" Rowena guessed. "Helga, your sweet side and capacity to see goodness in people is admirable, and I'm glad for that. But, sometimes you have to be a realist, and the plain fact of the matter is is that there is no kingdom to save, and there is no way to find out."

With that, she piled the clothes that she'd been washing in a basket, waved her hand, and they began to dry themselves behind some nearby trees. Mina snuck away: she now had a plan.

* * *

That night, a full moon glossed over the countryside. The moon's full beams illuminated a dark and scared country. Everywhere, people from high ranked nobles to small peasants huddled in their homes, scared of what the morrow would bring. In a house in the middle of Godric's Hallow, a figure crept out of a house and darted for the cover of the nearby woods.

As it went into the trees, the small figure lowered it hood, revealing shoulder length brown hair, and dark, piercing eyes. For ages, it stood still, silent as a statue, peering intently into the darkness. Slowly, four hooded men emerged from the woods.

"Mina," a cloaked figure said, giving the maid a hug. "How nice to see you again."

"What have you found?" the second asked. "How have you been?"

"Fine. But I have really good news."

"What is that Mina?" the third one asked.

"Princess Rowena Ravenclaw still lives."

"She does?" they all said together, astounded. "But they were all slain."

"Not her. Somehow she escaped. I've raised her since she was a baby. She is not an imposter."

"We'll then lets go," the first one said. "Let's tell her what's happened."

"Easy Rudrik," Mina interjected. "She is far from ready to lead such a rebellion. She still does not believe herself to be worthy of the title of Queen. And that is what we need to regain our kingdom: someone who believe wholeheartedly in themselves and is ready to do whatever it takes."

"Can we do it without her?" the one called Rudrik asked. "I mean, it's understandable. She saw her entire kingdom slain, her family destroyed in less than three hours. Anyone would question their ability to lead after a tragedy like that."

"No," the second one said. "We cannot. The Ravenclaw clan won't follow anyone else but a Ravenclaw."

"Well," Mina said. "I have a plan."

"What is it?"


	16. Duke of Normandy Part II

**Sorry to my eager supporter. This has been germinating in my computer for nearly three weeks while I took care of school and other duties.**

Duke of Normandy Part II

 _ **"Love all, trust a few, do harm to none."-William Shakespeare**_

Next day dawned bright and clear as people from miles around turned out in Godric's Hollow to see the new king. More curious than excited, most didn't care who was the king as long as he brought security to the fractious border between Wales and Angeland. Sir Godric did his best, but for every villain who fell it seemed another popped up quickly to take his place, continuing the never ending raiding and mini wars between the Gryffindors and the fractured Welsh kingdoms.

First to arrive was William's army, now recently reinforced and now numbering some 10,000 men. Such a large force concerned Rowena enough she persuaded Sir Godric to send as many women away into the surrounding moorlands as could be spared: she'd seen what occupying armies would sometimes do to celebrate, and she didn't want to see a repeat of the images forever scarred into her memory.

Many of William's knights took part in the ceremonies, jousting tournaments, and sparring circles, often competing against local Saxon lords and their household retinues. As noon approached, William himself finally arrived. Thirty eight years old, stocky, and with red hair×, he was quite an imposing sight. He quietly slipped in among the revelers, and his first act was to seek Sir Godric out.

"Well Sir Godric, quite a crowd you have here, it reminds me of Normandy," William said. "Dispense with the pleasantries. I need to meet with all the nobility you can muster."

"Sure, no problem," Sir Godric said, confused. Most new kings took time to get to know the common people and impress them with feats of strength and skill. "May I ask why?"

"Easy and simple, I need to know they won't rebel, if they don't, they can keep their lands, if not-".

William drew a finger across his neck to illustrate his point.

"At dinner then," Sir Godric offered.

"Dinner then," William said, as he hustled off to drill his increasingly idle troops.

Night came as November finally melted away into December, bringing a chilly wind from the Irish Sea into the moorlands. The church though, was bustling with activity. Local maids directed by Mina had laid out extravagant dishes as Sir Godric rounded up all the local nobility from the area. Among his invitees were Princess Rowena Ravenclaw, Lady Helga Hufflepuff of Bangor-on-Coed, and Salazar Slytherin.

"Well," Helga said in Welsh, in the same yellow outfit she used when she met Sir Godric. "How will I know what they are saying?"

"Let me translate," Rowena said, magically fitting her periwinkle dress closer to her warrior frame. "And remember what I said earlier about nobility."

"What about Mina?"

"She said something about a headache. She can't make it tonight."

Both ladies left their rented house on the outskirts of Godric Hollow, heading for the church. Behind them, Mina, dressed in a dark cloak, followed them, flitting from shadow to shadow. Outside the church, Mina pulled a wand out of her back pocket. Raising it over her head, she mumbled some words and night replaced her dark cloak until only the starlight could be seen where Mina once stood.

Rowena and Helga arrived to find the small church was much like the night they had arrived, except it could accommodate many more guests this time around. A solemn mood though, now pervaded the small structure. No one knew what to expect, what lands would be confiscated, what new policies their new king had in mind, or what was to happen next.

As William walked in, he was met with complete silence from the twenty or nobles there. No one was sure what he wanted. Applause? Adulation?

"Sit down," he said in Norman French.

Only Rowena Ravenclaw, Sir Godric, and the interpreters understood what he said without the use of magic. Everyone sat down with William and Sir Godric at the head of the table. William's knights were on the left side of a long table, with the local Saxon ladies and lords on the other. Talk broke out again as servants brought the food out and the two sides, once enemies talked freely, with interpreters in great demand.

Rowena kept herself withdrawn, preferring the company of Helga to any of the local nobles or the foreigners from Normandy. As food rapidly vanished into hungry bellies, she perked up when two of William's knights across from her began gossiping.

"Look at her, she's gorgeous," they said in hushed tones.

"Do you think we can f- her?" another asked.

"If she's nobility, perhaps William will give her to us as a wife."

"First, I'm not a possession," she snapped back in prefect Norman, causing both knights to jump.

"You speak Norman?"

"Oh, you imbeciles have no idea," Rowena said, cracking her knuckles. "Only cowards hide behind a language barrier. If you aren't careful, you might find more than you bargained for."

Helga nudged her in the ribs, trying to keep her composure. "Good one."

Both knights rose: the local Saxon nobility quickly stood between the Princess and her accusers. The two sides stared at each other, tensions building.

"That's enough," William said, stepping between them. "You two go and check the horses."

Rowena's retort hadn't gone unnoticed. William had heard every word of their conversation. He was impressed: not many ladies were well-educated, his wife Matilda among the exceptions. He made a mental note to talk to this lady and her golden haired friend later, sensing both of them to be of some importance.

"So, what do you think of our new king?" Salazar asked the two ladies, taking the knights' now empty seats across from them.

"Don't know," Helga conceded, mouth full of apple.

"He's a good tactician, looks like he's going to be a good ruler," Rowena said in Welsh, causing both of them to stare at her. "What? I've met enough royal men to gauge what they are like just by looking at them. What do you expect when your father would parade you before every man who came his way."

William stood up and everybody quieted down.

"So, many of you are wondering why I'm here, why didn't I just stay in Normandy and be content," he said, pouring himself a glass of Yorkshire wine. "I was content. Two years ago though, I rescued the great Edward the Confessor from a shipwreck on the coast. As he was childless and as we are related, out of his eternal gratitude he promised the throne to me. It was a sacred oath, one that someone doesn't break."

He stopped, allowing the translators and Rowena to finish translating his speech to Saxon and Welsh.

"When he died, I expected his subordinates to uphold his promise, but Harold Godwinson ignored his final wishes and seized the throne for himself. As proof, he had himself crowned immediately after the Confessor's death. If he had truly honored Edward's wishes, we wouldn't have had to go to war."

He took another swig.

"I never wanted this war. Harold brought it upon himself and England."

William sat back down. Everybody clapped, but Salazar and Rowena only halfheartedly. Both were very familiar with losing lands and kingdoms and this seemed little different, no matter how William spun it.

"Just you watch," Rowena muttered to herself in Gaelic. "Half of these men in this room will rebel within five years."

As the meeting broke up, William forced his way over to where Helga and Rowena were trying to get away.

"Hello my ladies," he said, extending a hand.

"Hello," Rowena said, curtsying as she had been taught for years.

"Who are you?"

She recalled the words that she hated so much.

"Princess Rowena Ravenclaw of Scottia," she said. "My companion, Lady Helga Hufflepuff of Wales."

Helga tried to imitate her best friend's actions and mannerisms, hoping her efforts would be acceptable.

"How do you know so many languages?"

"Maybe a bit of background," Rowena said. "I'm from north of York, just across the Scottia border. My father ruled over many tribes and had a vast kingdom, and thus I received a rich education thanks largely to my maid Mina."

"My father was friends with her father," Sir Godric interjected, coming up to her side as servants took down the tables and took the rest of the food to be given to the poor. "They forged a treaty that they wouldn't attack each others lands. York has had nearly fifty years of peace since then."

"What are you doing so far south?"

"My home is gone William, sacked by unknown hands, I myself barely escaped with my life," she said, clasping her hands in the hem of her dress. "Sir Godric here was kind enough to grant me sanctuary."

"Hmm, will you swear if I help put you back on the throne, you won't attack Angeland," he said, putting her on the spot.

Rowena dithered for a moment.

"You have my word William," she said. Too bad there is no kingdom left to be Queen of. But he didn't need to know that-yet.

William nodded, before heading towards the door. He bowed to Helga, before moving on. Along the way, he ran into a man with the emblem of a snake on his shirt.

"Salazar Slytherin," William said, stopping to shake his hand.

"My fame precedes me?"

"Yes, slippery as a snake my spies said. Lost all of your titles, your family massacred, then you reappeared a year later with massive business empire."

"Business is business," Salazar pointed out. "I did what I needed to do to survive. If you are looking for revenge, it's you are too late. My sources in London have informed me my partners are dead, slain at Hastings by your hand. Do I care, no."

William cocked his head to one side, considering Salazar for a moment.

"I see that," William said. "Well, if I were to help you get your lands back, would you help me?"

"Sure," Salazar said. "IF you can get my lands back. The local nobility were complicit in my family's downfall. I'm sure of that."

William waved Sir Godric to accompany him as he left the small church. As the doors closed, leaving just Helga, Rowena, and Salazar behind in the small church.

"Don't believe a word he speaks," Rowena said, surprising everyone.

"Why?" Salazar inquired, not believing her.

"Underneath that mask is a cold calculating warrior who'll do whatever it takes to hold onto his new domain, anything."

With Rowena's pronouncement in both Saxon and Welsh, it sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. All them of were sure they'd see William or his goons again.

* * *

Helga plodded down a dark path in the middle of the moors. Grass shuffled by her feet as she walked, a wand in her hand. Her eyes and ears were alert as she was tracking a master of deception. Rowena Ravenclaw had slipped away after the dinner.

As the path wound through a grove of English oak, it opened to a small rise in the landscape. On top were an ancient ring of stones with a large pedestal in the middle. Common throughout all of Angeland, the locals regarded them with suspicion as places of dark magic and mysterious happenings.

In the bright moonlight was Rowena Ravenclaw, sitting on the grass, back propped up against a rock. A black tail wound around her, with two wings, and a head, around eight feet long. She gently stroked the scaled creature, as it cooed in a soft almost roar-like purring. In one of her languages, she whispered words Helga couldn't understand. Suddenly the creature lifted its wings and took off-and Helga's legs gave out from under her.

A dragon flew off into the sky, but keeping low to the ground.

"Helga, what are you doing here?" Rowena asked, stunned to find her there.

"I, uh, oh this is bad..."

"Followed me? It's OK Helga. I understand."

"But that's a..."

"The locals call them _Blacks Innse Gall,_ or Hebridian Blacks."

"But how...they are..."

"Dangerous, to most, but not to me. The two of us met one day in the woods, lost and abandoned, so we understood each other. Would you like to take a ride?"


	17. Taking Flight

Birth of the Legend Part 2: United We Stand, Divided We Fall

A Ride At Dawn

Helga eyed the dragon warily as it landed behind Rowena. To her surprise, it landed on all fours: both wings on the ground behind the Scottish princess. It gently 'nudged' the her, then let the Scot pet it on the head. Rowena then fixed Helga with a look that she knew all to well.

"No, no, no..." Helga said, backing away.

"Come on, daighdear," the princess snapped, now very impatient. "It's so much fun."

"I think I'll just..." Helga said, before she broke into a run.

Suddenly invisible ropes tied up Helga's hand and legs. Slowly they dragged her towards the dragon, her feet digging small holes in the earth as she tried to break free. Even though Helga couldn't see Rowena's face, she could literally feel a ear to ear smile ever so slowly expanding across it,

"No...Rowena please."

"Come on, it'll be fun," Rowena giggled.

The temperature around Helga suddenly increased, telling the terrified healer that the dragon was literally at her back.

"No..no...no..." Helga as the magic let her go-and strong hands pulled her onto the dragon's back.

"Get on."

Black wings extended on both sides as Helga's legs glue themselves to the dragons back. With no choice, her eyelids slammed shut, and her arms involuntarily wrapped around Rowena, nearly choking her friend to death.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Helga's lungs sang to the heavens as she took off at a seventy degree angle, holding onto Rowena's stomach for dear life.

"Oh no, please..."

"Ardachadh," Rowena whispered to her dragon.

The dragon rose up into a ninety degree climb, now breaking the first cloud barrier.

"Rowena, wait please..."

"A'tuiteam."

The world for Helga seemed to slow down. Then the dragon dropped, letting the two of them free fall back to earth. Rowena giggled and was hooting with delight: in complete contrast, Helga was screaming at the top of her lungs. The dragon leapt back out of a grove of trees and caught both of them just feet above the ground, flying back up towards the clouds.

Slowly Helga's screams decreased as a new sensation in her stomach, a new emotion. Elation filled her soul, making the fear she'd felt just a minute ago completely vanish.

"See, not so bad isn't it?" Rowena said as she urged her dragon back towards the ground.

"Oh, this is..." Helga said, feeling her fear slowly wisp away as the clouds flying by her. "What else can he do?"

She immediately regretted her question.

"He's amazing..." Helga said, examining the majestic Hebridian Black up close, now that her fear of him was completely gone.

"She actually, her name is Drayden," Rowena said as the dragon purred, it's head in her lap. "She likes fish, but will take sheep on occasion. Unfortunately."

Suddenly Rowena's attention was drawn to a sudden pillar of smoke rising from across the moor, five or six miles distant. Her eyes narrowed and turned dark.

"Helga get on," she said as Drayden landed again.

Helga's eyes widened with excitement.

"No Helga, it's that."

Rowena pointed at the smoke.

"That can't be good."

"No. This is the fastest way."

Drayden understood Rowena immediately, extending it's right wing on the ground to allow the two women to climb onto it's back. Helga gripped Rowena's midsection as beating wings unfolded and they climbed into the air. Within seconds they'd reached the clearing.

It was once a village a pristine village, bustling with commerce. Rowena and Helga had visited just two days prior. Now burnt and charred buildings dotted the ground here and there. Many had been un-roofed, some were little more than black ash, while others remained nearly intact. The village square, where merchants had been hawking their wares two day earlier, lay completely deserted. Destroyed carts and merchandise was everywhere, much of it reduced to the consistency of pitch black night.

Most perplexing of all the was the crops. Halfway through their growing season, they lay undisturbed outside the village. As Drayden landed and let the two ladies off, they couldn't believe their eyes.

"Not a single body," Rowena said, turning over the remains of one of the houses.

"They just all vanished," Helga said. "Homemum Revelio."

Nothing happened.

"What's that?" Rowena asked.

"A spell that reveals human presence," Helga said, putting her wand away. "There is only us within a two mile radius."

"Let's check the road," the Ravenclaw princess suggested. "It rained yesterday, so it should be wet with mud. If they were carted off, it would be the easiest way to do it."

Helga and Rowena strode through the village, smoke still rising from the recent whatever had attacked it. Helga's heart throbbed with every building, her mind conjuring up images of what the people might be going through, perhaps enslaved. She could only hope that a Rowena Ravenclaw was out there somewhere to rescue them.

"Nothing," Rowena said, disgusted. "Daighdear."

Only tracks leads into the village could be seen.

"Could they have gone out by the woods?" Helga asked, looking at the moor surrounding them.

"No, they're too dense and the raiders too messy," Rowena said, knowing this for a fact. Her father would never take captives through a forest: it was too easy for them to escape and let the defenders know where the attackers where hiding out. "It's too far to go across this endless moor. Too easy to get lost and lose your captives."

Thoroughly confused, they walked through the village, fruitlessly looking into houses, stables, even wells for survivors. Until they heard a horse whinny. Both girls immediately disappeared within one of the burning buildings. Still smoking, they watched astonished as they saw a fresh kettle suspended over a fireplace, a hot meal still steaming inside. Both looked at each other with astonishment: what or who could have done such a dastardly deed?

"Just like my settlement," said a very familiar voice.

"Salazar," the two girls breathed. A pair of blue and another of brown eyes peered through the doorway, more curious than ever.

Salazar moved throughout the settlement, checking every house, creeping closer to the ladies' hiding place. He turned over kettles, pots, and even sampled some of the food still left over by the people who'd simply disappeared. Rowena flexed her fingers. A dust devil whipped up behind Salazar.

"What the ah," Salazar said as his foot caught on a branch.

Salazar's face made contact-with mud. Both girls busted out into fits of the giggles.

Pop.

"What was that?" Helga asked mid-giggle.

Salazar appeared out of nowhere behind them, wand pointed at both of them. Both girls screamed in surprise and utter astonishment.

"Stupefy," Rowena screamed, a jet of light erupting from her right hand.

"Protego," Salazar as Rowena's spell nearly shattered it. "Hey."

"Sorry," Rowena apologized as her spell sailed harmlessly into the dirt. "Don't sneak up on us like that."

"What are you two doing here?"

"We could ask you the same question," Helga retorted, causing Rowena to jump. Helga had such a sweet nature, she'd never expected such force from her.

"Checking out a plume of smoke, you?"

"None of your business," Rowena said in Saxon. She could sense Drayden loitering nearby: she was very defensive of her only true friend from her days locked up in the Ravenclaw tower.

"Yeah, whatever she said," Helga said, detecting the anxiety hidden underneath the hostility.

"You still don't trust me, do you?" Salazar demanded.

"No," Rowena admitted. "I don't trust..."

She bit her tongue, not wanting to offend her host.

"Godric Gryffindor?" Salazar guessed. "What if I tell him?"

"You'll wish you never set foot on this earth."

"Fat chance if you're on the run," Salazar said, relishing hanging some power over the impetuous Scottish princess. He had never gotten over being scorched on the rear end.

"Fine, checking out the plume of smoke, nothing more," she admitted.

Salazar chose not to pry further.

"Notice any similarities?" he quizzed.

"To what?" both women responded, the previous conversation all but forgotten.

"Your homes," Salazar gestured.

Both ladies gasped: it was similar. Both had been to affected by the tragedy to really notice.

"Same people?"

"Yes," Salazar said. "Some of the villagers fled onto the moor. When I questioned them, they told me basically the same story. Hooded men, with a large army, then vanishing into thin air. Wizards massacred my people, not Muggles."

"Hmmm," Helga huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "What a take down. Will you now stop hating Muggles?"

"Never," Salazar said in a tone that meant he wasn't going to discuss it further. "Rowena is only exempted because she was cursed."

"Really Salazar? You are aware what vengeance does to you."

"I said I won't discuss it, and let me remind you what your father did to you."

Rowena didn't say anything: technically Salazar was right. She was wizarding 'bastard', never having been born with it like Helga, Godric, or Salazar. Her father had done horrible things to her because of her unwanted gift.

"If they are killing off entire villages, we're the only knows who know. We must find out who they are, what they want, and if necessary stop them."

"Where should we begin?" Salazar asked.

"Easy, my patients," Helga interjected, causing both to be taken aback. "Many of them came with mysterious burns in the last few days before my house was raided. I guessed it was a forest fire."

"Back to Helga's place it is."

"Here, I can Apparate us there," Salazar said, holding out his arms.

"What?" Helga and Rowena said together.

"You know, when you disappear and reappear."

"Great, then we'll just do it then," Rowena said.

"No, you might cut yourself apart."

"What?" Rowena and Helga said together, frightened.

"Like a year ago. Three wizards tried it and one of them..."

"It's okay, Helga and I have our own mode of transport. See you there in fifteen minutes?"

"Okay but how?"

"Don't worry about it. Just apparate there in like fifteen minutes."


	18. Beginning of the End

**Chapter 18-Beginning of the End**

 **"Success is not final failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."-Winston Churchill**

The dragon's wings beat repeatedly as they skimmed the clouds, taking great care not to be spotted by any Muggles.

"Won't he been seen?" Helga asked.

"No he won't," Rowena said very fluently in Welsh. Being around Helga had greatly improved her Welsh skills, to the point nobody could tell she was from Scottia.

Hebridian Blacks had a unique ability that only those who understood them knew about: they could change their skins to reflect light, rendering them invisible to the Muggle eye. They skimmed the treetops, eventually reaching the forest where Helga Hufflepuff had made her home.

The dragon's head and eyes began to look one way or another, it's head moving from side to side.

"What's he doing?" Helga asked.

"Looking for a place to land," Rowena informed her.

The forest suddenly gave away to moorland before becoming forest again. The dragon landed, it's wings ruffling the grass and the nearby trees as it landed. As Rowena slid off of it's back, it nuzzled her gently and she gently stroked it's nose. Suddenly, it sneezed, enveloping her in dragonfire.

"No Rowena," Helga shouted, racing towards the princess. She was sure the princess would be a roasted piece of meat once the flames cleared.

"It's okay," Rowena as the flames wisped around her, leaving her and her dress perfectly unharmed. She wiped some cinders from her arms, which had no black marks on them.

"But...how..."

"Don't ask. I have no idea. Maybe because I'm a witch or something."

"The nearest village is over that ridge," Helga said, pointing to the north. "Can't we just fly there?"

"Nope, dragons have a bad reputation here in Angleland where they are viewed with suspicion and are hunted if they even make a single appearance. Drayden just being here is a danger."

"Drayden, camouflage," she told the Hebridian. "We'll be back soon."

Black turned to green and the color of sky, leaving nothing to indicate the beast was there. Rowena walked at a brisk pace up the slope, her dress flowing around her ankles.

"Wait up," Helga said, catching up to her companion. "How do you move so fast?"

"I do?"

"Yes you do. Like every part of you."

"What?" Rowena said, thoroughly confused. Her feet stopped mid-stride as she glanced back at Helga. "Oh."

She ducked just in time to avoid a tree branch at forehead level.

"What I said," Helga repeated, now drawing up to her friend. She had an issue that had been festering for sometime. Now was the time to bring it up, when they were alone. "You're still closed up like a clam."

"No I'm not," Rowena retorted, resuming her pace. She wanted to be doing anything else than holding this conversation.

"Yes you are," Helga said, rushing to keep up. "I have an idea. Let's tell Sir Godric about our little quest."

"No," Rowena said too fast. She immediately chastised herself, years of court training coming back to her too late. _Never answer too quickly in any setting because it might compromise you._

"Why not?"Helga demanded, swooping like a bird of prey on the Scottish princess answer."He's got too much on his plate. With the change of kings and all."

"That's part of the problem, keeping too much to yourself, not letting others in, not letting me..."

She grabbed Rowena's left arm, hauling her to a stop and forcing the increasingly furious warrior queen to face her.

"...letting me in. I know hardly anything about you, your dreams, your plans for the future...just the present. Please."

Suddenly Helga's wand extricated itself out of her skirt and slowly flew through the air into Rowena's waiting left hand.

"Please, you are just walling yourself off too much," Helga pleaded. "Let me in at least. One day it will backfire."

"I have opened up to you more than to anyone," Rowena answered. "My heart is sealed to anyone else for a reason. Now let me go, or I'll..."

"Fry me alive?" Helga giggled.

"I hate you," Rowena snarled, throwing Helga's wand back at her and storming off. "I'll give you the silent treatment for a month rather than just three hours."

Helga tagged along, a grin creeping across her face. She was one up on the Scottish Princess and it was a feeling she was enjoying at the moment.

 _Pop._

Salazar appeared out of nowhere into a grove of trees just aside the village. He peered through the trees, eyes intently scanning every inch of the place for danger. A smile crept across his lips as two women emerged from the trees about a hundred yards away, one on a blue dress, another a brown, but neatly kept dress.

 _Pop._

Salazar appeared right behind them.

"How'd you get here so quickly?" he demanded. "It's at least five miles between here and Godric's Hallow."

"Need to know only," Helga and Rowena said together, walking past him, signaling the conversation was done. Helga might've been angry about Rowena's secrecy, but she was still intensely loyal to her-and the few secrets Rowena had shared with her.

Quietly the threesome slipped into the village undetected and boarded at the small inn, taking all the rooms available. In Helga and Rowena's room, the three gathered to plan their afternoon.

"Ten of my regular patients came from this area," Helga said. "We are just from across the Welsh border. Two of them came in with burns and stories of ruined villages. Mostly nonsense probably caused by trauma, but it's our best shot."

The threesome slipped into the village and stocked up on supplies at the tiny market in the center of town. Afterward, they met up in the woods to formulate their strategy.

"So, what's the plan here?"

"I think we split up," Helga said. "Salazar. South of here is a village that just disappeared off the map..."

"I'm not going alone," he interjected.

"I'm not saying we go alone," Helga said, changing her plan. She'd hoped for some alone-and discovery time with Rowena. Clearly that would have to wait. "We visit the site of the small town first, then visit my patient. It's a Wizarding family, the Bones, who always received my services."

The threesome borrowed horses from a thoroughly confused innkeeper and headed south. Helga was mutinous: she knew something magical had happened to that Muggle, but neither Rowena or Salazar had done anything to raise her suspicion.

"Seriously Rowena, did you really need to do that to him."

"Do what?," Rowena said, glancing at her friends, thoroughly confused.

"The innkeeper gave us these horses for free," Helga pointed out. "We didn't pay a pence for them."

"That is strange," Rowena replied as Salazar became more and more uncomfortable.

"Salazar?" Rowena and Helga said together.

"Okay, okay," he admitted, trying to keep his fear of Rowena hidden. "I might've used a Confundus Charm on him. Don't worry, I'll reverse it when we get back."

"Hmm," Helga said. "You'd better."

On horseback, what normally took Helga half a day to cover only took a few hours. Out of the gloom, high on a rise above the moorlands, a large manor house materialized in front of them.

"How, there was nothing there before?," Rowena observed, shocked.

"Concealment Charms," Salazar said nonchalantly. "Many Wizarding families use every concealment spell known to wizardkind to hide from their anti-Magic neighbors. Unplottable Spells, Fidelius Charms, and other similar ones that don't affect magical folk, only Muggles."

The three tied their horses to a nearby tree and walked up the slight slope to the manor house. Large and majestic, it was a pale gray color, and was lopsided to the right far too much to be standing on it's own without magical assistance. Four levels of windows indicated it was a four floor mansion, with a balcony that circumvented the entire roof. Helga rapped her right fist hard on the door four times.

"My code knock," she whispered to her two companions.

The door opened and shocked eyes took in the three visitors at the doorstep.

"Helga!" a woman shrieked, vaulting the stairs and giving the healer a massive bear hug. "We thought you dead."

Unnoticed, Rowena and Salazar finally had a chance to observe common Welshfolk. In simple brown clothing, the woman was plump, blond haired and browned eyed, and shorter than Rowena by about a head. Behind her, a wand was sticking out of her back pocket.

"Mabel, this is my friends Salazar Slytherin and Prin-Rowena Ravenclaw," Helga said, gesturing to her two friends standing awkwardly in the background.

"Oh blessed be," Mabel said, her dark eyes fluttering with new found hope. "With everything going on..."

"What's going on?" Salazar interrupted.

"You'd better come indoors."

The four wizard folk now sat around a spindly, square wooden table on run-down chairs. Rowena to the right, Helga left, Salazar and Mabel across from each other.

"So what's happening?"

"Surely you've heard," Mabel said, looking around at her guests with disbelief.

"Well, we've been on the run for the past three months, the English king was killed, raids, etc. etc.," Rowena said, arms crossed on her chest. "It's hard to know which news you are talking about."

Mabel glanced at her friend, confused at this mysterious woman's unladylike behavior. Helga merely shrugged her shoulders at Rowena's cold and blunt deposition.

"Events are playing out so rapidly it's hard to keep track. My relatives are high up in both the Muggle and the Wizarding governments. So they keep me informed."

Mabel began ticking off events.

"The Wizarding Council has fallen despite efforts to convene it, Norman wizards are running amok, Muggles are coming up with increasingly sophisticated ways to find us, and the wizard prisons are empty. What do you think it means?"

Helga, Salazar, and Rowena just stared at her with thoroughly confused looks on their faces.

"You don't know do you?"

"It's not like we've been here very long," Salazar pointed out. He was right: everyone present but Godric hadn't spent more than two months in Godric's Hollow.

It was now Mabel's turn to wallow in confusion.

"I'm from the Fenways," Salazar said, trying to keep his grief buried. "My community decided to try and rule over Muggles. I disagreed. All of them are now dead and I'm hundreds of miles away from home."

"I'm from Scottia," Rowena informed Mabel, her voice cracking. "My home was ransacked and destroyed, my people brutally eradicated."

"My home too," Helga informed her.

Mabel looked at them all with compassion, knowing her answers would only lead to more despair for them.

"Do you think it's a coincidence these all happened to you at the same time?"

Everyone but Mabel just shrugged their shoulders. Insecurity, death, and raids were common enough that it was just part of life. Even sweet Helga Hufflepuff had lost much of her sheltered existence in the last two months. Mabel drew her wand and levitated four rocks in front of them.

"To be honest I'm shocked Sir Godric hasn't been attacked yet," Mabel said. "Every major Wizarding family has been struck in one way or another. We are at war."

"War with whom?" Rowena asked, shaking her head.

"Every power has a light and a dark side," Mabel said, causing the four stones to rotate in the dying sunlight from the doorway. "That includes magic. While some of us use it for good, others for evil."

"Not news," Salazar said rudely. He'd seen firsthand what some wizards used magic for. He hated Muggles with a passion bordering on obsession, but they were still living, breathing beings. Unworthy of magic yes, but not to be massacred.

"You were targeted, all three of you," Mabel said. "Frankly, I'm astounded you all haven't put it together yet."

"We were targeted?" Rowena almost shouted, rising to her feet. Her heart seething with rage, guilt, and malice. She wanted nothing less to blast who did it to the moon. "Why?"

"Who?" Salazar demanded, not bothering to keep his hatred out of his voice.

"Why, because you are a threat. They are trying to take over as we speak. Their leader calls himself Merlin."


	19. Christmas Day 1066

Christmas Day 1066

" **I don't really think about the degree of difficulty or the possibility of making a mistake. I just try to relax and let my preparation and training take over**."-US Olympian Simone Biles

"You're kidding, right?" Rowena giggled." Seriously, Merlin? He's dead now, isn't he?"

"Of course he is," Mabel Bones responded, moving around the table to stare closely at the princess. "But yes, why Merlin?"

"It's silly isn't it?"

"No it isn't," Salazar responded.

"What?" Rowena said, not giggling now.

"Remaining masked has created fear and confusion. How can you fight an enemy when you don't know who they are."

"He's been at this for the last five years, all his have followers returned to him," Mabel said. She drew a line across her neck with her finger.

An owl flew through the window, dropped a piece of parchment on Salazar's head then flew out just as fast it came. Salazar slid his hand across the top, slicing through a red seal. He unfurled the missive and read it, his brow furrowing more and more as his eyes read down the paper.

"What is it?" Rowena and Helga asked.

"It looks like our fine Sir Godric has invited us to London," he spat. "At William's request. We are to attend his kingship coronation-or die. We leave for London immediately."

* * *

After staying most of the day, Rowena and Helga left immediately on Drayden back to Godric's Hollow while Salazar Apparated.

"What does William want with us?" Helga asked on the way, maintaining an iron grip on Rowena's stomach.

"Because he won't be legitimate if some of the English/Saxon nobles skip his big day," Rowena answered. "It shows weakness, and as a new king in a foreign land, it's something he can't afford."

Drayden landed in a field out of sight of Godric's Hollow.

"Good boy, now go back north until I need you again, " Rowena said in Gaelic to her friend.

Drayden nuzzled her sadly, then flew off northward turning the color of sky blue.

"You must really miss him," Helga observed, seeing a side of the princess she rarely saw.

"Much, but we have much to do ourselves. Including with you."

"Me?," Helga said, stunned.

"Mina and I forgot, we need to teach you to be a noble woman."

* * *

The next few weeks to Helga seemed to just fly by as Christmas approached. With four days to go until the coronation, a massive entourage of some 200 local Welsh and Saxon nobles from the area around Godric's Hollow showed up at Sir Godric's instruction and prepared for the two hundred mile journey.

Helga, Rowena, and Salazar waited behind them, secure in more magical means of transport than just horses and wagons, as endless convoys from the West Country flowed towards the capital. Rowena and Helga joined the last caravan, before rendezvousing with Salazar and the small wizarding community in St. Albans, just outside the capitol. From there it was to Londium Alley.

As snowflakes fell from the sky, streets turning to mud. Salazar marched importantly down one of the streets, avoiding everyone else, until a massive Roman wall blocked their path.

"Uh, why are you stopping at a wall?" Helga asked. Rowena didn't say anything: she'd learned very quickly to stop asking questions about magic.

"Here's how you join the Wizarding Quarter in London," Salazar said.

He pulled out a wand from his black cloak, and tapped four bricks on the wall. The bricks melted away, a small hole showing a cobblestone street that wound it's way out of sight. Shops were dotted here and there, selling everything from wands to rickety broomsticks.

"What the-" Rowena said, stunned. Was this how her castle and city was penetrated? This easily?

"Christmas in four days, we don't have much time," Salazar said.

"We'll keep that in mind," Helga and Rowena said mutinously together, tiring of the bully in front of them. He'd been that way ever since St. Albans. Salazar took note, and immediately softened his tone. "Where should we-"

"No, you can sleep where you want, we're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight," Helga replied, locking her left arm with Rowena's right. For once, Rowena merely nodded.

"Fine, that's were I'm going too," Salazar conceded. His plan was to conduct the ladies to his business HQ was dead. Cranky, tired, their tempers were at straining point.

The two ladies walked towards a dilapidated old building, invisible to Muggle eyes that concealed the entrance to Londium Alley.

* * *

"No, no, no, no," Mina huffed for the fifth time. "You're walking too stiffly."

They were in their small flat in the city of London. It consisted of a small kitchen, a parlor with a table and chairs, and three bedroom. The small table and chairs had been moved to the side, except those that Mina and Rowena were sitting on. Helga was the middle of the two so that both could watch and grade her efforts.

"Cut her some slack Mina," Rowena said, watching Helga walk around more like a goose than a noble.

"She needs to blend in. She can't be waddling around like a swan."

Rowena rolled her eyes: she could see that Helga was a lost cause, but Mina never gave up.

"And how long did it take to turn me into a 'proper princess?,'" Rowena retorted, glaring at her handmaid.

"Five years, and you never truly gained that princess aura," Mina replied, trying to keep her temper in check.

"Now Helga, do us a turn and a curtsy," Rowena suggested.

"A what?" Helga asked, confused at the archaic Welsh word Rowena was using.

Rowena clapped her hand to her forehead in despair: it had been like this for the last four hours, and by more extension, the last week.

"Helga, stick by me or Mina, and please try not to embarrass yourself too much," she said, as Helga could only shrug her shoulders.

Helga giggled, trying to crack Rowena's hard exterior. But neither Scottish maiden was having any of it.

Rowena opened the wardrobe in the corner. The ladies had brought an entire wardrobe from Godric's Hollow-only to find that William hadn't forgotten them. More clothes had been waiting for them and had been discretely delivered to their flat.

"What do you suggest?" Rowena asked, shifting through the dresses.

There there off the cuff shoulder, low chest, button-up collared, backless, long sleeved, low cut, almost every type of dress imaginable was there in every color. All three ladies were having a hard time just contemplating the vast number of choices.

"So many of them," Helga noted, looking at a yellow ball gown sewn with small stones that reflected the light. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation upon seeing it. She fingered the cloth closely. "I choose this one."

"Easy for you to say," Rowena said, shifting through them. "Most of them are too confining. You can't even fight in any of these."

"How about this one?" Mina asked, pulling out a periwinkle blue gown with very little to no ornamentation on it. It flowed tightly to the ground, and the maid was sure Rowena's warrior toned form would fit nicely inside it.

Rowena picked it up, placed it on her hips, and twirled around a couple of times.

"How are you so good at this?" she asked her maid.

"Years of practice," Mina replied, grabbing a green off the shoulder. "This is mine. Come on, let's see how we look."

Salazar and Godric

Compared to the ladies, the regalia Sir Godric and Salazar had to wear was meant to convey a central message: who their families were and what they stood for.

"Snakes, gotta love them," Salazar said as he pulled a green tunic with three snakes intertwined over his nicest shirt.

"Lions are better Salazar," Sir Godric said, examining his reflection in a bowl of water.

"Can you speak to them?"

"No, what-"

Salazar made a raspy, snake-like sound that caused Sir Godric to jump.

"You speak the snake language?"

"Yes, my entire family did," Salazar responded. "Very interesting things snakes have to say too."

"I don't know if I want to know," Sir Godric concluded, pulling his shirt over his head.

* * *

Christmas Morning 1066

The procession through the streets of London was very threadbare and devoid of the anticipation that had greeted Harold when he had hastily seized the throne a year earlier. Now, less than two years after the great Confessor had died, another king took the Anglo throne.

Notable was the absence of the Bishop of Canterbury, the most important Cardinal in Britain. Nobles from both side of the Channel crowded into the small, still yet unfinished Westminister Abbey. Back towards the middle, was Sir Godric and Salazar. At the very back was Rowena, Helga, and Mina the Maid.

William solemnly walked, with his wife Matilda behind him, down the row as a Bishop chanted in both Norman French and Saxon for the benefit of two nations coming together as one. As he took the chair that once was Harold's, the entire crowd (minus Rowena, Helga, and Mina) rose and shouted in French and English.

Outside, the Norman soldiers stationed to make sure the coronation happened panicked. Nearby houses caught in fire as the men tried to figure out what was happening. As chaos unfolded and many in the Abbey fled, the Bishop and William completed the coronation. The Duke of Normandy was now William I of Angleland and Normandy.

* * *

The after party was a much subdued affair. Normally a joyous occasion, many of the nobles were now trickling back in, after the nasty street riot that had resulted in nearly 200 fatalities among the soldiers and civilian population. Protocol was followed first. William and Matilda, whose coronation was to come later after her husband, stood at the front of the chapel and had each noble who was still present greet them in French or English.

In the line, Mina, Rowena, and Helga conversed in Welsh, a language not spoken by anyone else there.

"This Merlin," Mina said, after the two had told her what Mabel had told them. "How do we stop him?"

"How is he even 'Merlin'?" Rowena proffered. "He must be a pretty dark wizard. It's not like we can just waltz in and convince him to come quietly. Besides, it isn't our job."

"Why?" Helga demanded, drawing the attention of both Scottish women.

"Why what?"

"Why isn't our responsibility? How long do you think it'll be before this 'Merlin' turns to the defenseless Muggles. He also might be behind the sack of your castle."

"What?" Rowena demanded, outraged. "How?"

"Well, those men got in through some serious fortifications that no Muggle method could get through easily."

"Hold that thought," Mina said as they came to the front of the line. "Now, Helga, curtsy like this..."

Mina grabbed the folds of her dress, bowed her knees slightly, and her head in a slight bow that was the epitome of courtly protocol. Rowena followed suit, much more roughly than her mentor. Helga, trying to remember everything her friends had taught her, couldn't foresee what was going to happen next.

As Helga approached the stand in front of William and Matilda, her knees were already shaking out of fright. As she bowed and gripped the edge of her dress, her knees locked.

"Uhh, ahhh," Helga said in a language only two people in the crowd could understand.

Helga spun on her heel and toppled backward, knocking over several other guests.

CRASH!

Helga sprawled on her back in front of the new king. Rowena and Mina immediately took action. Trying to ignore the laughter emanating from around them, they escorted the hapless Helga out of the room.

"Please don't make me do that again," Mina said in Gaelic to Rowena. "I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

"Shut it," Rowena responded curtly, more concerned with the hysterical Helga, who was bawling with humiliation.

* * *

"Where the girls go?" Salazar asked Godric as they talked amongst the nobility after the line procession had ended.

"I dunno," Godric said, putting a drink down, shrugging his shoulders. The ladies weren't his responsibility.

Salazar debated: should he tell Sir Godric about Merlin? He decided on a little test first. Sir Godric was really the de facto leader of the Wizarding Community in Britannica at the moment. With the quarrelsome Wizarding Council all but absolved, many now looked to the young and yet still untested Gryffindor as an interim leader until the council could be reestablished.

"How's the Wizarding community?" he asked.

"Not good," Sir Godric said. "There's a dark wizard calling himself Merlin on the loose, and no one seems to know who he is-or why he's here."

So he does know, Salazar thought.

"Something's going on," Salazar said, seeing dark clouds gather outside the window. "It looks-you know. Come on."

He grabbed Sir Godric and dragged him away from the pretty Norman lady he'd been wooing.

* * *

Trying to calm Helga down was proving to be an difficult task. Outside, the two had taken Helga to small alleyway near their apartments and were trying to help console her when something blasted a large part of a nearby house.

The three girls screamed as dark shadowy streams skimmed the rooftops, blasting holes in roofs, and occasionally killing innocent Muggles. As one headed towards the three women, Rowena's anger got the better of her.

"Expulso," she bellowed, blasting it with her hands.

"AAAHH!" something came from it as a dirty, filthy, haggard man came out of it and smashed into a brick wall. He slumped, unconscious to the ground.

"Wizarding attack," Mina said, having seen them in Wales-and later adopted land of Scottia. "Hurry, we have to stop them."

"But we'll get burned at the stake if we try," Helga said, wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"Not if we use these," Rowena said, magically summoning three red robes from her room. The three enveloped themselves in them, using magic to securely conceal their faces and hair.

"Alright, let's go," Mina said, pulling out her wand.

The three threw themselves into the fight. Not expecting any resistance, the attackers were easy prey. One by one they were shot out of the sky, crashing into carts, cartwheeling into fruit trees, and the streets. Muggles fled in all directions for safety as five dark wizards surrounded the women. Helga, Rowena, and Mina stood back to back as their assailants circled them like wolves preparing for a kill.

"Shoot, didn't think of that," Rowena admitted, berating herself internally for not using her combat instincts effectively enough.

"Can we help?" Sir Godric and Salazar said upon Apparating into the circle.

"Sure," Rowena said, actually grateful for once to see the boys. "Helga stay close to me."

Helga and Rowena viciously attacked the filthiest of the two. Both were covered in gunk and pig residue and smelled horribly. The ladies were pristine in comparison, but it really didn't matter. Helga was driven back under a relentless series of spells, until a scream to her left distracted him.

The wizard facing Rowena saw his wand shatter into a billion pieces after just three minutes of combat. Suddenly, he halted, and howled like a wolf to the rising full moon.

" _Incendio_!" Rowena screeched.

Fire erupted from her hands: she directed the beam at the transforming werewolf. The flames scorched him, producing a mini-explosion. The transforming werewolf was smashed into a brick wall, and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

"No wonder he was a push over."

"Rowena, help!" Helga screamed as her wand flew out of her hand.

"Daah," her opponent cried as his but was scorched by Rowena's spell. Helga, bent down searching in the mud for her wand, finally found it.

" _Stupefy_ ," she said.

A jet of red light struck the wolf in the face and he crumpled into broken barrels of wine.

"Let's help everyone else," Rowena told Helga.

All around them was chaos: Mina was locked in mortal combat with another transformed werewolf, while Sir Godric and Salazar both dueled masked men. The Princess and Healer joined Mina in taking down the werewolf, confident the boys could take care of themselves. Salazar blasted the man's hood: it fell off, revealing a man he'd seen ransacking his village almost a year prior.

"YOU! MURDERER!" he screamed.

" _Expelliarmus_!" he yelled, as the man's wand flew wide. Salazar used every dark spell he'd ever learned from his evil uncle.

The man immediately dropped to the ground, roiling in pain. The wizard dueling Sir Godric didn't last long either. Within less than a minute, he collapsed under the weight of three Stunning Spells.

"Salazar, seriously?" Godric said, astonished at Salazar's temper. Rowena however, took charge of the situation.

BANG!

Salazar rear end was scorched again by an enraged Rowena Ravenclaw. This time, she really let him have it.

"AAAHH!" Salazar screamed as flames licked his back.

"Aquamenti," Sir Godric chuckled, extinguishing the flames on Salazar rear end. "She did warn you Salazar."

Giggling sounded from behind him. Salazar turned around to find Mina, Helga, and Rowena all standing close together, giggling uncontrollably like little schoolgirls.

"What's wrong?" Salazar demanded.

"Wow, do men really have it..." Helga said, bursting out in fits of laughter.

Salazar promptly took cover behind a nearby brick pile. Sir Godric rolled his eyes, waited until Salazar was decent and met him.

"Sorry, I just lost control..."

"Control it, it will get you in trouble some day," Sir Godric reminded him. "Idiots in my territory are banished."

Rowena and Helga turned around.

"Where's Mina?"

"Not sure," Helga responded. "As they say, "

Both ran towards Westminister Abbey before their absence could be noticed. As they ran, a team of other wizards descended on the scene.

"What are those?"

"Who cares?" Rowena said. "A mob should be here any moment."

* * *

The party was nearly over; William and Matilda had already retired for the night. Both women were exhausted, even thought they'd cleaned themselves up after their duels. As the nobles filed out, Rowena and Helga prepared to depart for Godric's Hollow, heading for the stables were they'd lodged their horses.

"Stop," Rowena said, gripping Helga on the shoulder.

"What?" Helga said.

Rowena drew her sword, deflecting an incoming blow. Then, it flew out of her hands, leaving her defenseless: she had expended most her magic already, leaving her unable to articulate a single spell. Helga didn't dare use her wand as many horseman came out of the fog that had enveloped London.

"If we die, we die with honor," she whispered to Helga.

"Absolutely."

One of them dismounted, and did something that left both in shock. He ran to Rowena and bowed, grabbed her right hand.

"My princess," he said, trying to kiss her hand.

She jerked it out before his lips could make contact, her knees threatening to buckle with shock: she recognized him as her father's leading general.

 _No, no, no not now..._ she thought.

"Princess Rowena, it's time you knew," Mina said, emerging out of the fog.

Rowena's mind pieced it together: Mina had been tracking and tricking them all along.

"You..."

"Your people are alive. We need you to free them."

Rowena's warrior facade crumbled for only the second since Helga had known her. Helga saw a scared, inconfident, and conflicted little girl take the warrior's place. Rowena backed up, anxiety clouding her already buzzing mind: it overloaded. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets and her knees buckled. She collapsed into Helga's arms.

"Oops, maybe too much at once. Maybe it's too soon," her father's general said a little awkwardly. "It's good, we still have lots of work to do."

Mina held out her wand.

"Helga, you are crucial, she needs to assume her role, but she isn't ready yet. I thought she was, clearly I was wrong. I need you to help me get her ready to face the truth. May I pack away this incident until the time is right?"

"As long as you don't wipe her memory, I won't allow it," Helga said, bluffing.

A light grew at the end of Mina's wand, and she held it at Rowena's forehead for a moment.

"Good, it's at the back of her mind," Mina said, creating a small bruise on the side of the princess's head. "Here's our story: the future Queen tripped and hit her head on a rock and you healed her."

The horseman departed leaving the three alone.

"I hope your plan works," Helga said.

"Me too, only she can unify the fractious Ravenclaw tribes. She must, or else all hope is lost."


	20. Dark Forces Ascendent

_Dark Forces Ascendant_

 **"Success is not final, failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts."-Winston Churchill**

Over the next couple of week, the attacks on the Wizarding Community became ever more organized. Powerless to stop it, Wizarding populations uprooted and coalesced into fewer communities, leaving many villages stripped of as much as half of their inhabitants. Soon only a few settlement were truly safe. These largely consisted of London, Godric's Hollow, Milford Haven in Wales, and Hogsmeade/Edinburg in Scottia.

Caught up in this were the four refugees and Sir Godric. Several attacks on Godric's Hollow were beaten off, in pitched battles that left the defenders increasingly exhausted. Many wizards and witches lost their lives, including Sir Godric's second lieutenant Sir Edwin. Despite all this, Mina, Rowena, Helga and Salazar were getting antsy: Sir Godric had forbidden any witch or wizard to leave the village, convinced all hands were needed for defense. But that didn't stop them.

* * *

Late one bitterly cold January night, Helga slipped from the house shared by the three ladies, and strode with purpose across the frozen ground towards the stables. She stopped every now and then, suppressing shivers, and listening closely to the environment, listening for anything other than the wind making her chill. She her cloak closer around her hair, trying to block out the wind blowing from the Irish Sea. Colder than she could ever remember, it reminded her of the last battle for Godric's Hollow. She slipped behind a tree, flattened her back against it's trunk and drew a wand from her a pocket.

"Stupefy," she said, moving from tree to tree. Against the stables, three guards crumpled to the ground without a moan. Helga listened carefully, hearing her newly acquired mount, a brown Clydesdale from York neighing inside in distress. She almost reached the opening to the stables...

"Going somewhere?"

Helga jumped as Rowena stepped out of the darkness beside her mount Eagle. The stables contained nine stalls with five of them occupied. The first was Helga's newly acquired palmino named Healer, followed by Godric and Salazar's favorite brown mounts. Rowena's majestic Eagle though, towered above them all. Brown, with white spots all over its body, it had a powerful build that made all the local horses look lame. Eagle was boarded in the stall closest to the wall, three empty stalls between Healer and the door to the stables.

The princess moved into the light of a small lamp she had just lit. She was dressed in a blue dress that covered most, but not all of her white nightgown. She too had a cloak on to protect against the wind. Her hair was all frazzled, as if she had just gotten up.

"It's off limits..."

"Like you care!," Helga spat back.

Rowena bristled: she was right.

"Go back to bed, or else," Rowena said in her best Queenly voice, pointing towards their shared house. "Or else I'll inform Sir Godric."

Helga, dejected, turned around, shame burning in her eyes. Head lowered toward the ground, she very slowly went back towards home.

"I'm sorry, it's just I want answers.."

She halted in her tracks, a thought making her mad beyond belief.

"Wait a minute, what are you doing here?!," she said, whirling around so quickly her hair nearly blinded her.

Rowena was half mounted on her mount Eagle, her cloak seemingly making her nightgown disappear. She stumbled off in a panic, nearly face planting on the ground.

"I was...I was...making sure Eagle was happy," she lied coldly, leaning against her mount, with the air of a child just caught stealing.

"Of all the nerve, why don't you go to bed!," Helga shouted, her mad face just inches from Rowena's, who was burning with humiliation.

Suddenly both heard rustling in the stables.

"Lumos," Helga said, pointing her wand into the stalls.

Her wand's light illuminated Mina and Salazar, both half mounted on Eagle and Healer. Eagle and Healer were by far the best horses in the entire area. It was only after Helga had defeated another wizard in a duel that she took possession of the former war horse.

"Of all the nerve," Rowena and Helga said together, their tempers threatening to erupt. "You were about to steal our horses. What is to keep me from blasting both of you to York?"

Mina and Salazar slowly dismounted, both fuming at being caught. Three persons drew their wands: the princess activated her powers at the same time. Four Stupefy spells erupted, the princess and the healer against the Parselmouth and royal maid. They all collided, shooting around the stables, bouncing off the walls. Eagle neighed so loudly, Helga was sure everyone in Godric's Hollow was awaken.

The racket of the horses, the spells, and four humans trying to escape the confined stables resulted in a mess of tripping, toppling, and pure panic as they tried to escape the red streaks of light.

"What did you DO?!" Rowena shouted at Mina as one of them burned a hole in her dress.

"Too many of them, if magic collides, it can have nasty side effects," Salazar gasped as another one narrowly missed where he'd been seconds before. "EVERYONE RUN!"

Rowena dodged one, pushing Helga out of the way of one of them.

"Helga..go…."

She took one squarely in her shoulder blades: she collapsed, coming to rest on her back.

"Rowena!"

Helga bolted to her best friend's side. She took one in her right foot: her forward momentum carried her over the princess's feeble legs. She face planted on a pile of moss next to the princess's limp form. The two other spells shot away into the darkness.

"Let's go!," Salazar said, not believing their luck.

"Hurry," Mina said, fumbling with the knot tying Eagle to his stall.

The red jets of light returned, rebounded by some mysterious force.

"Salazar look..." Mina screamed, seeing the Stupefy spell out of the corner of her eye.

Salazar glanced to his right: it struck him full in the face. Mina lost her head and ran for it, like Helga, she tripped over Rowena's unconscious form as a red spell found her ribs. She ungracefully stumbled forward, rolling on top of Helga and Rowena. Four knights and Sir Godric emerged from the darkness, fury in all of their faces.

* * *

Later, the four fugitives stood in a line. Wands confiscated, Rowena's hands had been bound by some sort of handcuffs that kept her powers in check. All of them were tied to a wooden wall, shackles preventing them from moving. A crowd had gathered in Godric's Hollow public square to observe the spectacle.

"Did anyone listen to my orders?" Sir Godric thundered at his captives, none of whom responded. Even the fiery Scot kept quiet, burning with shame and humiliation.

"I sentence all of you to the fruit."

Salazar and Helga gulped.

"What's the fruit?" Rowena and Mina asked the other two as apples were amongst the crowd.

* * *

Four hours later...

"Daighgear, that's our punishment," Rowena said mutinously back in their hut, as she extracted bits of apple from her hair. "Of all the things he could've done to us, that was worse. I should've scorched his rear end, not Salazar's."

Outside in a nearby grove of trees, three dresses were washing themselves in a small stream that ran right through the village. Helga walked in, hair wrapped in a woolen tool from a recent bath. She glanced around before closing the door.

"We have to get out of here," Helga said adamantly, pulling a chair up and sitting in it.

Rowena had finished with her hair, and was now working on Mina's. "What's gotten into you lately?"

"What?" Helga asked, shocked.

"Rowena busted you last night. I'd expect you to do that, not her," Mina pointed out. She sat on a chair while her mistress combed her luxurious locks, pulling apple bits out of them.

"They killed my parents, these same wizards that are running amok," Helga exclaimed, pacing and full of barely contained emotion. "I must visit my shack and look for clues. I must know who they are. I must..."

 _Pop._

"So do I," Salazar said, appearing out of thin air. No one flinched at this anymore.

"How do we get out of here?" Mina asked, her hair now back to normal. Rowena began twisting it into a bun. "Without Sir Godric finding out. I'm not fond of being pelted with fruit by an entire village plus refugees."

"It has to better than just stealing our horses," Helga said, glaring at Salazar and Mina for copying her idea. She was sure she could've pulled it off had they not intervened, even being discovered. She knew Rowena would've joined her eventually after much work. "No doubt they have a 24 hour watch on them right now."

"Anti-Apparition spells have been placed everywhere," Salazar informed them, taking another chair. "So that route's closed."

"Drayden?"

"No, they'd see him," Rowena answered curtly. She didn't want to play that card yet.

"Drayden?" Salazar asked, puzzled.

"Never mind. How do we get out?" Helga said curtly, warning Salazar not to pry.

"Isn't it obvious?," Rowena finally contributed.

"You have a plan!" Helga said, excitement dazzling in her eyes.

"A really good plan. Based on my experience back home. First thing we need is a large draft of your Sleeping Potion."

"My potion?"

"Yes, about two large cauldrons of it, do you think you are up to the job?"

* * *

January crept away as the four mobilized for the plan. Rowena squirreled away supplies from the local marketplaces, Mina wove new clothes out of the extensive wardrobe the three ladies had accumulated from William, Salazar helped to hide the preparations with his extensive knowledge of concealment spells and his cunning. January 20th couldn't come quickly enough.

"Here we are, two cauldron fulls of Sleeping Draught," Helga said. "Now. How're we going to get everyone to drink this?"

"We only need a small group of people to drink it. In the chaos, we grab horses and escape," Rowena said, packing some apples and some goat cheese into small saddlebag on the small table in their dining room. "One cauldron full. The other we'll need just in case."

"Good plan." Salazar said, the brilliance of it finally dawning on him. "Oh, the feast."

"Yes, the feast. Simply slip this in, steal our horses then we're home free."

"What about the people here?," Helga argued, very worried. "They need us."

"I agree," Rowena said, moving to support her friend. They needed Helga's help to pull this off. She was absolutely crucial to the plan right now. "But eventually they'll get through. We can't just sit back and take attack after attack. The last assault nearly overwhelmed us. If Sir Gavin hadn't blasted that rock, we'd all be dead. We need to end the assault. We can't do it just sititng here waiting for something to happen."

"I've got a little plan for that too," Salazar interjected. "Sir Gavin and I have a little surprise in store for our enemies. Explosive Potion-a little invention of mine (everyone had flustered looks on their faces) dabbed on all of spells around here. It should keep them back for awhile until we get back."

"We shouldn't be gone longer than a day," Rowena concluded as Mina entered the room with thin travel dresses for all of them. "Godric's Hollow should be fine until then."

As Helga and Salazar bustled off to put the Sleeping Draught in the kitchens, Mina took Rowena's arm.

"Have you ever heard of a plan where everything can go wrong?" she whispered in the Princess's ear.

* * *

To Mina's utter amazement, everything literally went right. Getting the slopping mixture into the whiskey barrels was an arduous task, but Helga and Salazar managed it. Next was simply waiting for the whiskey to be served at the toast that Sir Godric usually held at the end of the feast honoring the local nobles. This time, it was in honor of the fallen wizards and witches who had given their lives defending Godric's Hollow.

"Well who knew," Mina grumbled. Underneath her ebony ball gown, she had a thin dress excellent for escape on top of her undergarments, including her corset was making it nearly unbearable. She kept having to use spells keep her sweat in check. "We'll be escaping when they are honoring our fallen comrades."

"I know," Rowena said, feeling a little guilty, also overheating as well. Sir Gavin chinked his glass, causing the light chatter in the small church to die down. "Alright here's the moment. Wait, where's Sir Godric?"

"Who cares?" Salazar said, joining them. "Get ready to move fast."

Sir Gavin rose from his spot at the end of the table.

"Everyone, I'd like to have a toast the many witches and wizards who are now on the front lines protecting us all. May God protect them, and may those who never come back find peace for their souls."

Everyone at the table drank execpt Rowena, Helga, Salazar, and Mina who only pretended. Grinning, giddy with the wine and without the slightest change of expression, everyone keeled over. Many gently sank into piles of food, slumped against the table or a wall, or collapsed on the floor. Wine glasses broke as their owners dropped them, or threw them against the wall.

"Hurry, it only lasts twenty minutes," Helga shouted as the four made their exit.

Helga, Rowena, and Mina pulled off their ball gowns while Salazar discarded his dress robes for a thin chain mail shirt and regular riding trousers. As they ran towards the stables where they'd been ambushed two weeks earlier everything was going according to plan.

"Going some..."

BANG.

Rowena flattened whoever was guarding the stables. She did it with such elegance, Salazar couldn't help but marvel at this mysterious woman. As the women hurried inside, Salazar stayed outside to keep watch, lost in his thoughts about the Scottish princess. Rowena was even more graceful in battle: she moved with such speed that many a dark wizard didn't even have time to curse her before she unleashed a spell, using _Incendio_ as her signature spell. Helga too, she'd grown from an innocent young maiden to a capable warrior herself. Both woman though, he noted, hadn't killed any dark wizards, just did enough to them (about the same scale Rowena had done to him on two prior occasions) to cause a retreat.

"Uh, oh," he said, seeing a tuff of red hair in a bush.

"What?" Mina, Helga, and Rowena said together, already having gotten Healer, Eagle, and Salazar's steed ready.

"It's Sir Godric," he said, pulling his limp body out of obscurity. "We're in so much trouble..."

"Just take him," Helga interjected, tired of all the obstacles obstructing her path. She untied Sir Godric's horse from it's stall. "We'll 'explain' things as we go."

"But if he just disappears..."

"Leave a note," Rowena said, feeding Eagle some oats. "Saying Sir Godric and four companions have gone out on a routine patrol and will be back in a day or so. We've already done it before, so I'm sure they'll buy it. Besides, if we leave _him_ , they'll send a posse out after us."

"Here Salazar," Mina said, throwing the horse's reigns to Salazar.

Salazar pulled out his wand: a few spells later and Sir Godric was drooling in an upward position, leaning on the saddle.

"Let's go," Salazar said.

Five horses thundered out of the stables at a quick trot south to the Welsh border.


	21. Future Bonus Chapter

_Prologue_


	22. Camelot Part 1

**I tender my apologies to Asa, who's long-suffering prodding has been pushing me to complete this story. Enjoy this next chapter please.**

 **First Clues**

"It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for war, for vengeance, for desolation."-William T. Sherman

Sir Godric was mutinous. An hour after leading Godric's Hollow, the mighty lion finally awakened. Gagged magically and still sore after being flattened by Rowena's spell (again), the lion was ready to roar-but he couldn't.

"What should we do with him?" Helga whispered to Rowena.

Rowena huffed as she'd been wondering the same thing for the past half hour: if they let him go it would be bad.

"Let him drool some more," Salazar interjected. "After we poke around for a while, we'll be back before nightfall and Sir Godric won't remember any of it."

"Just keep an eye on him," Mina said, giggling as Sir Godric screamed indignantly in silence. She poked him in the ribs. "Just be a good boy and followed us along, like a baby lion."

This drew snorts of laughter and giggles from the others. Helga remained stoic though, laser focused on the mission ahead. Only Rowena understood what was transpiring beneath the aloofness that the healer was now displaying. She knew it was time to crack it before vengeance consumed her friend. Healer and Eagle soon settled into a pace that left them slightly behind Mina, Salazar, and the gagged Sir Godric giving her the chance she'd been looking for.

"So, what's bothering you Helga?" Rowena asked, walking on thin silt.

"Nothing," came the curt reply.

"I don't take 'nothing' for an answer, especially from you," came the blunt reply back. "Now tell me what's going on or I'll terminate this trip permanently."

Helga resigned herself to the worst: the steely glare in Rowena's eye showed she meant business.

"They killed my parents, so I must..."

"'Kill them back'"?

"No..."

"Okay, how about 'get revenge' or 'light their butts on fire'? Am I getting warm or colder? You tell me."

Helga huffed, her anger ever increasing.

"How do you know me so well?" Helga demanded, annoyed at how close Rowena was to the actual truth. A monster had awakened in the Welsh healer, a monster that causing her to feel more anger than she'd ever had in her life. She needed to find those who did this, could Rowena understand this?

"Because, lo and behold, Miss Princess here was in your exact situation, not all at home was hell you know. I lost many who I loved, including my people as well."

Ahead, Mina and Salazar were listening with renewed interest to the conversation.

"You don't have to take my advice for it, but vengeance, if not properly managed will destroy you."

Helga rolled her eyes, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the wily and observant princess.

"Let me warn you then Helga, you might be my best friend, but if you cross the line-"

"What line-"

"You know what line I'm talking about," Rowena warned her ever more sternly, kicking Eagle's sides. The massive warhorse broke into a trot and blocked Healer's path."If you even so much tiptoe up to it, I'll take personal action to make sure you don't cross it."

With that neither woman spoke a word to each other until they reached where Helga had had so much misery.

Two hours later and Rowena was ready to close up shop, admit defeat, and go home. No signs of the hut remained, only the small memorial they'd erected a few months earlier. Why did we come in the first place?

Looking at the horizon to the north, she felt a strange sense of foreboding. What is over the horizon for me, she thought. Her hair stood on end: someone was coming.

"Hide," she said to those around her in Welsh and Saxon.

Everyone (Sir Godric included) hid behind bushes, rocks, logs, and (in Rowena's case) standing straight as a tree in a thicket. By now night had fallen and the lack of moon made the woods as black as mourning cloth. A squad of clothed and masked wizards and witches walked, leaves crunching beneanth their feet, heading through the clearing not expecting any trouble. Two lead the way with Lumos light emitting from their wands.

"Merlin, can't believe they bought it..." came a voice in Norman.

"..you don't believe that rubbish..." said another in Gaelic.

"...when do you think the coup will be ready..."

"...still don't believe they fight us..."

The voices became inaudible as the dark wizards left the clearing.

 _Merlin was a lie, who is behind the attacks then?_ Rowena puzzled. _But who then? This trip is giving us more questions than answers._

She adjusted her position to better see them: some of them were carrying limp figures magically suspended between them. From what little star light what shining down from the heavens, everyone recognized the embrace of death. The casualties weren't just one sided after all. As Rowena breathed a sigh of relief, two stragglers walked into the clearing talking in Welsh.

"...the people who lived here..."

"...I poisoned them. It was so easy..."

Anger seared Rowena's heart, but she quickly quashed it before it could cloud her thinking. She watched them go, praying and hoping against hope no one would do anything foolish. Just as they were heading up a ridge, something slammed into her. Helga was charging, her anger radiating off of her so the princess didn't even need to see her face.

" _Petrificus Totalus_ ," Rowena thought in Gaelic.

Helga's limbs snapped to her sides, her mouth frozen before she could curse at the princess, her frozen form fell over into a English ivy bush.

 _Thump._

The caravan of death stopped. Within seconds, five of them swarmed the thicket, wands ablaze, where Rowena had been hiding. Lights checked out every inch of the thicket, but found nothing.

"Hmm, maybe just a fox," said a cloaked man.

"Maybe we're just jittery after the last attack on Godric's Hollow," a woman said. "We did get our rear ends scorched quite badly."

The group left and headed west towards Wales. Only when they'd crested the hill and their backs vanished down the other side did a human descend from the sky. Helga's eyes, wide as cherries, flickered wildly as she descended from the top of a nearby pine tree. A lithe warrior jumped from limb to limb landing gracefully on her feet as Helga magically came down next to her, flattening out onto her back.

"I warned you," Rowena whispered to Helga as Salazar and a gagged Godric watched on in shock. "You could've gotten us all killed."

She clicked her fingers: Sir Godric's bonds were loosed. Helga rose to a standing position, still under the effects of the Totalus curse. The rope binding Gryffindor's hands wound themselves around Helga's wrists and a Silencio gag completed the bonds around the healer.

"Salazar, when she's got her temper in check, let me know."

"Totally," Salazar nodded in agreement, performing the counter curse to the Body-Bind. Helga's limbs regained movement, but the wand pointed at her prevented her from running away.

"What are you doing out here?" Sir Godric asked. "And why..."

"Shut it," Mina interjected, pointing her wand in his face. "We don't want to die in Godric's Hollow. We're going to the source of the problem."

"I think I found something," Salazar said, picking up something from his feet. "It's the clue that might burst it open."

He had in his hands a large stone object with mysterious writings on it.

" _Lumos_ ," he said, seeing only ancient rune writing. He turned the stone around and around, unable to read it before Rowena jerked it away from him.

"Camelot is where Morgan le Fey ruled," Rowena translated in less than five seconds.

"What language is that?" everyone but Helga asked. Everyone knew she spoke five languages, but they didn't know she could translate ancient langauges.

"Ancient Pictish rune writing," Rowena answered, generating curious looks from everyone. "It's what the nobility among the tribes use for communication. It's a dying language, clever actually using this form of communication."

"Where is Camelot exactly? That's were we'll find our answers," Mina interjected.

"No, we have to get back to Godric's Hollow, they need us," Sir Godric said.

"No. You go back, we're not. This is a mystery!" Mina said, jumping up and down like a four year old. "We've got to solve it."

Rowena giggled: it'd been years since she'd seen her nursemaid like this.

"Alright," she said, taking charge. "We need to know the location of Camelot. The legends among the tribes speak of it as being somewhere in the south..."

Helga was jumping up and down-or trying to jump up and down-indicating she knew the answer. Sir Godric raised the Silencio gag on the Welsh healer.

"It's near what today is called Caerleon," she said. "On the River Ask."

All gave her suspicious gazes except for Godric.

"What, I grew up there," she said. "It's Caerleon's best kept secret. Nobody visits the ruins because it's believed evil demons live there."

"We have to visit those ruins," Sir Godric announced, the first useful thing he'd said in the last five hours. "But we still need someone to visit Godric's Hollow. Another attack is imminent."

"Fine we'll go there quickly, our lion is right, Godric's Hollow needs us," Salazar finished. "Six hours, that's all. Helga, myself, and Rowena..."

"...by dragon," Rowena supplied. She whistled a very shrill and loud whistle that sounded like a bird.

"By what?" Godric and Salazar said together. Everyone else ignored them.

"In the forests south of the city," Helga said, attracting a skeptical gaze from Rowena. "What? I've been there many times on medical runs. I just didn't hide in the forests all my life. There are ruins there that are much older than the current city."

"Fine, Mina, let's go back to Godric's Hollow. Grab my arm."

Mina glared at him suspiciously.

"It's nessecary to Apparate. You can take more than one person, but you have to maintain some sort of contact."

Mina settled for his shoulder instead. They vanished into thin air.

"Let's go," Rowena said as a black creature the size of a large house descended from the air.


	23. Camelot Part 2

**Camelot Part 2**

"Apparition, so what's it like?" Rowena prodded the very sick Salazar, trying to keep his spirits up. He didn't answer, his stomach too green to risk it.

An hour of beating wings had taken their toll on both Helga and Salazar. While Helga kept using a spell to keep her stomach juices in check, Salazar had no such luck. Crammed tightly together, Helga didn't dare turn around for fear of falling and Salazar didn't know the spell (Evanesco). As the small village of Caerleon came into view below, the forest to the south of the city was dark and foreboding.

Drayden circled over the treetops, Rowena and her mount looking for a clearing. Finally, a large clearing appeared, but to Helga it looked like certain death. The surrounding trees had been cleared and a circle of stones was in the middle of them like those found throughout the islands of Britannica.*

"Creepy indeed," Helga muttered mutinously as the dragon finally came to a stop.

Drayden fluttered down and turned the shade of dark grass.

"Where to next?" Salazar asked, dismounting, glancing nervously at the dark, forbidding woods.

"There," Helga said, pointing to the south. "There should be ruins somewhere in there we can poke around."

* * *

Rowena, Helga, and Salazar kept around the dark forest for the next four hours. Early morning crept closer, with the sun's rays faintly beaming over the horizon. Rowena was getting tired, and she gave Salazar a look that said, Let's go home. Helga saw it and knew the jig was up.

"Please, it has to be here somewhere," Helga implored.

Rowena and Salazar were tired, dirty, and were in no mood to bargain.

"No, not to...AAAAAAAAAAH!"

Rowena screamed as she collapsed through the forest floor. She tumbled down a rough, small hill, somersaulting to rest on a soft carpeted floor. Leaning against a wall, she looked up-and almost fainted. Row upon row of books climbed the walls of the small cavern she had just discovered.

"ROWENA!" Helga screeched, looking for her best friend.

"I'm fine, fine," Rowena said. She sat up against the wall, and tried to stand. Her ankle screamed in protest, but she ignored it. "I found something."

Salazar and Helga peered in.

"Wow, so many..."

"Books," Salazar finished. "Come on, hurry. This place gives me the creeps."

"There's more," Rowena said. " _Lumos_."

She used light from her hands to show them what they couldn't see: a study of some kind. Like any great scholar's den, it had a desk, scrolls in cubicles neatly arranged, eagle feather quills, a bed, everything one needed to be the scholar of their time. Salazar and Helga slid into the hole and joined Rowena.

"Don't touch," Rowena warned curious Helga, who was about to pull a book down from the shelf. "If I were a great mage..."

"You are," Helga pointed out.

"..I'd booby trap the entire place and only disarm it when I came back," Rowena finished, ignoring Helga's comment. "And he never did. The traps may still be active."

She began scanning the Welsh writing on the walls, looking for any sign of who had owned the place.

"Well who..."

"Myrrdinn," Rowena read, reading a word that had been blasted with some spell. It was barely legible in her Lumos light.

"Myrrdinn?," Helga and Salazar. "But that's not..."

"Merlin, remember Merlin is the Anglo form of the Welsh Myrrdin," Rowena informed them. She somewhat absentminded, picked up a half written dusty scroll on the desk, and pocketed it. "They are the same person. Just different names."

"So, we just found Merlin's library? Where do we even start looking?" Helga asked.

Rowena was just as lost as all of them: reading all of the books in the office alone would take several lifetimes they didn't have. Even for her, some of them were in languages she couldn't understand.

"Hmm," someone said behind them.

Salazar was staring at a rock wall.

"Salazar, what are you doing?" Rowena and Helga asked in unison.

"Staring at a wall with a basilisk behind it," he responded.

"A what?"

"A basilisk, deadly snake that kills just by staring at you," he responded, feeling the wall.

Glancing back, Salazar saw that both women were thoroughly terrified, even the normally tame Rowena Ravenclaw.

"...if you're not a Parselmouth..." Salazar finished.

He hissed and a large snake the size of three trees unraveled, closed its eyes and faced them, revealing a small passageway just big enough for one small person to pass through. Salazar conversed with it for a few minutes longer before it slithered away into the ground.

"What did it say?" Rowena prodded, now insanely curious.

"He said, nobody has conversed with me for a thousand years, only Parselmouths may pass...nothing else," Salazar said rather abruptly. The snake had said much more, but he didn't feel like letting them know yet. He had the ladies were about to find out without his help.

Helga bent to look in: the passageway was so small, the only way to get through was by crawling. Helga crouched on her hands and knees, and scuttled forward, followed by the other two. As Rowena crawled, her hair stood on end.

"Be careful, I sense danger," she informed the others in a soft voice.

"How'd you always know?" Helga and Salazar demanded.

"It's the way of a warrior princess."

With a sense of finality in the princess's tone, neither one pressed the subject further. They continued on crawling for five more minutes until they came to a small room somewhere underground. Rowena felt the roof, and detected wood. She heaved with her back.

"Come on, help me," she almost shouted at the others.

Helga, Rowena, and Salazar all heaved together. The fragile wood gave away, and shattered. The three pushed the pieces away, and could finally stand up.

" _Lumos_ ," Salazar said, adding to the light provided by the princess.

To their right was a grey stone sarcophagus large enough to fit a woman, its lid ajar.

"What, someone risen from the dead?" Helga quizzed. She knew of no spell that could raise the dead. Reanimate, but not raise the dead.

Spider webs covered everything, and it was a little replica of Merlin's office, but it described evil. Human skills, weird concoctions, body parts floating in jars, and a weird moaning coming from a small pond near where the body lay made even Rowena quite queasy. Her eyes found a nameplate attached to the coffin. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widen and her black hair stood on end. In Latin, it stated **Hic jacet Morgan le bey.** She gasped, her mind instantly offering her a translation that almost made her faint: _Here lays Morgan le Fey. Or Morgana as the Anglos know her._

"We have to get out of here," Rowena told the others.

"Why?" Helga asked.

Rowena's heightened senses lit up like a bonfire. She whirled around, and panic gripped her chest.

"Because of her..." Rowena said, pointing behind them.

A tall, red haired woman stood behind them. She stood before them in a Roman-esque style dress, sandals that looked many centuries too old, and wand in her right hand, She was gorgeous, and in Salazar's eyes, her beauty rivaled Rowena's. She locked eyes with the princess.

The eyes show you everything, Rowena remembered her mother had told her.

She zeroed in on the woman's eyes- and almost fainted again. She knew them too well. They weren't friendly, mysterious, or even beautiful. The woman had the eyes of a warrior before battle, of blood-thirsty chiefs lording over dead enemies, the eyes of a killer.

"DRAYDEN!" Rowena screamed.

Drayden swooped in and blew the roof off of the building, exposing everyone to moonlight. Fire erupted from his mouth, burning the place the woman stood. Her silhouette was illuminated by the flames.

" _Expulso_ ," came from behind the flames.

"Salazar, meet us near the hill on the moor," Rowena shouted.

The princess ran, her dress flailing about her. She leapt off a bookcase into the air and Drayden caught her in his claws. He threw up her some sixty feet, and looped in mid-air to catch her on his back. Salazar grabbed Helga's arm and Apparrated on the spot as Drayden fled at top speed into the sky.

Blue flames licked the office of Merlin, spreading into the woods, consuming them in seconds. They burned until they reached a small stream when they disappeared just as suddenly as they had appeared.

The woman walked out of the flames untouched.

"De qua melius, sum retro," she said, smiling as Drayden vanished into the moon.

Hundreds of feet up, Rowena glanced back at the blue flames licking the woods, her infernal mind swirling with questions.

"Morgana, how?" she muttered, no one to answer her as Drayden flew north towards Godric's Hollow.

 _A few words on Camelot, King Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table. In JK Rowling's world, they were living breathing beings (Order of Merlin), in this world, I draw upon more recent findings that have shed light on this mythical person. The places associated with Arthur have recently been found to have been inhabited and very important at the time he was said to have lived (400-500s). But, as many believe he was based on an actual character during this turbulent and little understood Dark Ages, he would most likely have been a Roman-Briton war leader fighting against Germanic tribes who were settling among the native inhabitants at this time. Caerleon was one of the locations were Camelot was said to have been. During this time, the Germanic Anglo culture replaced the Roman culture and many Britons fled to what is now Wales. Wales itself comes from a Anglo-Saxon word that means 'stranger'._


	24. Split Apart

**Starting now, I'm going to begin editing and correcting some of the chapters that have preceded this one. Many have errors in them because I was experimenting with new narrative forms-and time is precious. So, enjoy and have fun!**

 **Split Apart**

 **"The leader must aim high, see big, judge wisely, thus setting himself apart from the ordinary people who debate in narrow confines."-Charles de Gualle,**

The journey back to Godric's Hollow was very quiet in comparison to the events that just transpired. Rowena urged her mount on, her eyes threatening to close. The sun was peaking over the horizon, but she was exhausted, relying largely on Drayden to navigate. Her mind too tired to comprehend, she leaned against her beloved mount and drifted in and out of consciousness until she felt the dragon descending. She felt a monster rumbling within, and resolved to find a hollow in the woods somewhere to let it escape. But, after she had gotten some sleep.

Her magic had become unruly lately and it had taken all she could muster to keep it under control. Exhaustion, plus the strain of combat and staying up all night had taken their toll. As soon as she arrived back in Godric's Hollow, she found everyone else waiting for her. Though her eyes were refusing to stay open, Rowena immediately informed them of what she had seen.

"But how did she survive 500 years?" Helga asked, pacing inside their small house back in the village.

"Maybe she didn't," Salazar suggested, sitting on a small chair on the bottom floor that functioned as both a kitchen and den. "What if it's just a name? Something that someone staged to frighten people?"

"Does it matter?" Sir Godric interjected, pacing. "We know who the ringleader of all these attacks are. The question is...

"...ow do you defeat her?" Rowena finished, leaning against the wall for support. "F...i...re...won't do...he...trick..."

"Okay," Helga said, taking her by the right arm. "Off to bed with you."

A rustling of horses outside the house signaled the arrival of some of Godric's underlings.

"What now?" Sir Godric said, not happy. "We're not suppose to meet up till the morrow."

Mina entered the home in a panicked state.

"We have to leave," she said, grabbing Rowena's other arm, causing the princess to flop onto the floor.

"...eave...y?" the Princess slurred, increasingly sleepy as Mina tugged harder.

"They're giving up," Mina cried, nearly hysterical. "We can't be caught here. We still have our people to rescue."

"Who's giving up?" Salazar said, rounding on Sir Godric and pulling out his wand. "We just got started? Godric, I need answers now?!"

"I didn't order a surrender," Sir Godric responded, now furious himself.

Several of Sir Godric's men lead by Sir Gavin entered the house, armed with spears and wands.

"Sir Godric, you are under arrest," he said, quite proudly.

"By who's authority?" Sir Godric demanded, furious as a lion.

"Mine. Peace terms have been offered by our brethren. The only conditions are that you, the princess, Mina, Helga, and Salazar be handed over to Morgana and she'll immediately cease the attacks on us."

"She'll kill us, you know that," Sir Godric said, furious. He couldn't believe it: Gavin and he had grown up, jousted, even fought in sword fighting tournaments together. How could he betray them just like this?

"The safety of the people outweighs those of five, I've done it," he said, quite haughty and proudly. "I've saved the Wizarding World from annihilation. We'll join with Morgana, and finally rule the..."

BANG!

Sir Gavin was thrown violently out the way he came as the princess lost her temper, even in her sleep deprived state. Sir Godric, enraged, pulled out his wand and in less than twelve seconds had subdued all of Sir Gavin's accomplishes.

"I'm …...eaving," Rowena announced, now coherent, yet swaying dangerously.

"Here, trying this Wideye Potion," Helga said, practically forcing it down the princess's throat.

"I won't live under a hag," Rowena coherently pronounced, her sleepiness reduced, though not entirely vanished.

Helga's medical senses started tingling however. The princess hadn't said a word lately about her magic or her outbursts. Could there be a problem?

"Me too," Mina chorused.

"Let's hurry," Salazar said.

"But wait...oh," Sir Godric said.

Looking out of the house he saw a parade of dark witches and wizards marching down the village green. People were fleeing towards the woods, just as Sir Godric had hoped they would.

"Ok," he said, thinking quickly. "There are traps set around here. Let's set them off and in the chaos evacuate everyone."

"Where?"

"To a refuge deep in the woods, the Druids set it up and passed it down through my lineage," Sir Godric explained. "Everyone here knows about it-oh, sorry, forgot to tell you. It's magically enchanted to repel anyone who's used dark magic in the last three days. From there, we'll shepherd everyone who still wants to fight."

"Where do we go?," Rowena, Salazar , Mina, and Helga asked together.

Sir Godric created a rough sketch of the village and the escape route he was envisioning with his wand.

"Here," Godric said, pointing at a square in mid-air . "This is where we are. The river runs along to the west of the village. Rowena, Mina, you take the right side next to the river. Cover them from there. Salazar and I will cover from behind, Helga, join with my knights to lead them to the trees. When all are inside, we'll head for the refuge and discuss our next move."

"But our stuff, we need..." Helga started to point out.

"No problem ladies," Mina said, pulling out fully loaded trunks for every single one of them. "I've been preparing for such a eventuality for days now. I even squirreled away your most prized possessions earlier tonight."

Everyone looked at her in amazement except for Rowena who merely smiled, knowing that her maid was always on top of things.

"Everyone, get ready," Sir Godric said. "Use this little trick."

Godric shrunk his trunk down to a small size and stuffed it into his boot. He did that the four other trunks Mina had collected in the house. Rowena, Helga, and Mina stuffed theirs into the folds of their dresses: Salazar and Godric put them into their boots. Sir Godric looked out again, ready to set the plan into motion.

By now, most of the civilians and everyone who didn't agree with Sir Gavin's decision had already fled the village. Sir Godric had a feeling though that the dark wizards and witches would soon begin pursuit and they needed to hold them here until everyone could escape.

"When the traps go off, take down all the dark wizards you can. Provide covering fire, we must get everyone out of here to fight another day. THREE, TWO, ONE!"

"LOCOMOTOR MORTA!" Sir Godric bellowed.

Pieces of furniture came to life, lit themselves in the nearest fire they could find, and lit up roofs, walls, kerosene, candles, anything flammable. Enhanced by magic, the houses went off, lighting up the night like noonday. Roofs shot dozens of feet into the air, logs and splinters rent chaos through the streets. In the mass of swirling debris, the five friends jetted from the house before it blew up.

Rowena, Helga, and Mina felt a pang of loss as their abode for the last year blew to smithereens. Helga raced to join Sir Godric's knights who were leading the mob of refugees to to the woods. Mina, Rowena, Godric, and Salazar escorted them from behind.

"Can you use Drayden? He could help," Salazar called out to the princess.

"No, I sent him back to Scottia," Rowena yelled back. "It's the breeding season and their numbers are low right...OW!"

A jet of red light scarred across her stomach, burning it fiercely. The red haired woman, appeared, flanked by Sir Gavin, Gryffindor deserters, and her followers. Panic now set in, an emotion very unfamiliar to the princess, one she knew was quite contagous.

"PROTEGO!" a chorus of voices yelled.

Several knights, Salazar, Godric, Mina, and Rowena all combined their powers and created a magical wall between them and their pursuers. Morgana began pounding it with a variety of spells and her newly expanded band of followers joined in.

"It won't hold for long," Rowena said, feeling the pressure in her bones.

"Hurry, Rowena, Mina, get the rest of them inside."

"Hurry, get in there," Rowena said, almost shoving the slower refugees towards the woods. "Move, Move."

"Rowena be..."

"LIVES ARE AT STAKE! MINA HELP ME!" Rowena shouted at her.

Mina shut up and obeyed her mistress. They picked up the weaker refugees and practically threw them into the woods. The woman was now just a stone's throw away from them.

"Good," Sir Godric said. "Now..."

An explosion rent the air where they were standing, shattering the Protego shield. It triggered a mad dash for the woods as everyone still left fled for the refuge.

"Helga, look out," Sir Godric yelled, pushing her into the woods.

Thanks to his quick action they escaped. A magical blast thrust Rowena against a rock-and she took a red spell to her stomach region again. She landed on her hands and knees, doubled over in pain.

"Rowena, no," Mina cried.

"Mina, runnn...nnnn!"

"No.."

"MINA GO!" Rowena shouted, looking her maid in the eyes.

Rowena's body ached and the pain forced her eyes closed. At the same time, her inner magic sensed an opportunity-and slammed against her mortal frame. Pain as she never had known before rocked every inch of her body. To make matters even worse a dam upstream, built by the Romans to help corral water for nearby farm fields broke, caused by some of Morgana's overzealous followers. The small stream that wound it's way through the hollow became a torrent.

"Rowena," Mina said, seeing the situation getting ever more bleak.

"GET AWAY!" Rowena screamed. "I'm about to...outburst..."

Mina turned around: no one was around her. The survival of the princess and the last hope of the Ravenclaw clan all depended on her now. Morgana walked towards them, murder in her eyes.

"Rowena, can you focus the blast?" Mina asked, struck with a sudden burst of inspiration. "Towards Morgana?"

Rowena was doubled over with pain, but she heard her maid. The magic needed an outlet: with the help of Mina, she shifted into an upright position. Fighting the pain, Rowena managed to funnel the magic through her hands. A multicolored blast erupted from the princess: Morgana vanished just before impact, but her hapless followers were left behind. Many of them fled while others were caught in the beam, screaming in pain.

When it was over, the princess slumped to the ground. Mina pressed her hand to the princess's throat and felt her dying pulse.

"NOT TODAY!" Mina shouted.

She pulled held her wand to the princess's chest and halted the damage with some well placed healing spells-necessary in her line of work straddling both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.

Much of the blast that Rowena had sent out was now returning very unnaturally. Shepherded by those dark mages that survived the blast, it headed directly for the princess. The last known Ravenclaw slumped into the world of darkness as the blast wall slammed into her and the maid. Knocking Mina out, both were thrown into the nearby raging river, flushed with recent rainfall. Ravenously, the river welcomed both women with open arms. The Scottish maid and her mistress were swept violently downstream eastward towards London.

Morgana smiled: two of her adversaries were now gone, and only three remained. England was her's for the taking.


	25. New Plans

**Split Apart**

Mina slowly came too. Her eyelids were heavy and refused to open, despite her willing them too. She coughed several times, her limbs feeling like the freezing cold water she'd found herself in. Suddenly, they flashed open as panic set in.

 _WHERE'S MY CHARGE!_

Mina shot up in bed, instantly earning a headache and dizziness for her efforts.

"Easy, easy," someone said in Gaelic.

Mina almost died: it was a man speaking and the last time she'd spoken with a Scottish man was Christmas. Mina fumbled for her wand: she found it stored safely inside her gown...not my gown. This one was brown and made of sheepskin like the one she'd wore while living in Scottia.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded, angry.

"I didn't do it," the man said, still concealed in shadow. "Women got you out of those rags you were wearing. You would've died if they hadn't acted."

"Who are you?" Mina demanded, hand secured on her wand. She was still too weak to run for it.

"I, Mina, we have you to thank," he said.

"Why?"

"Because you have brought hope to those who have none."

"How?"

"You brought us the Princess."

Mina's heart dropped to her stomach.

* * *

Several anxiety filled hours later, Mina raced to her charge's side. Rowena was pale blue, dry, and in a sheepskin dress like hers. Prostrate on her side, she didn't move, nor did was there any gradual rise and fall in her chest to signal that she was still alive.

"Is she dead?" Mina asked the woman next to her.

"No, she isn't," the woman said. "Call me Madea. I'm the healer here, she just been like this since the men pulled both of you from the river. I think it's magic. I just which I knew which spell, my contacts would be able to do something about it."

"It is," Mina confirmed.

"How do you know?"

"I'm a witch," Mina informed her.

"Oh," Madea said, her face inscrutable. "Can you do anything to help her?"

Mina placed a finger to Rowena's neck: she could feel a strong heartbeat, testament to the life force beating in her chest.

 _Why won't she awake?_ Mina thought. She could think of no spell that could help in a situation like this.

Rowena coughed.

"Yes," Madea said. "We finally have someone who can unite us."

"Unite us?"

"Yes," Madea said, now bubbling with excitement. "Don't you know? We're survivors from the Ravenclaw clan. No one can agree on who to lead us. We have hope!"

Mina knew she was about to throw cold water on the fire.

"Hold your sheep," she told Madea curtly. "Last time we tried to break the news to my mistress, she fainted."

"What?"

"She was kept in seclusion, a trophy for over twenty years. What would you have done?"

"Can she rule?"

Mina could detect the doubt and bad experiences behind the curt question.

"Oh yes she can. Princess Rowena Ravenclaw has the heart of a queen: she just needs to see in herself."

"Well, there is nothing we can do but wait," Madea said as the princess rolled over onto her left side and started sleeping normally.

* * *

Rowena's eyelids fluttered open, blue eyes taking in the dark cave that they were hidden in. They flashed with recognition on Mina, then flickered menacingly towards Madea.

"It's okay, she'd on our side," Mina implored the princess, knowing what Rowena was thinking. She wasn't sure what spell the princess would use if given the chance. "She saved us."

Rowena tried to get up: her body stubbornly refused to move. Her muscles screamed, her joints were weak and cold, and to round it all off, she realized what time of the month it was. The cramps, combined with the ice water plunge, wracked her body with pains, chills, and weakness.

"Um, princess," Mina began.

"Mina, spit it out," Rowena implored. "And where's Helga? She can get me better in no time."

"I don't know," Mina admitted. "We were the only two who went into the river. Everyone else is..."

Rowena gasped, dread pooling in her stomach. She couldn't bear the thought they could all be dead. They were all too tough for that.

"Any news?"

"None, execpt..."

"What?"

"These people are your tribe," Mina said.

"Oh."

Mina's mind puzzled: the 'oh' was neutral and unreadable. Would Rowena faint on her again? She just decided to confess everything. She switched from Welsh to Gaelic so that everyone could understand them.

"For the last year, I've, I mean...we've been.."

"What?" Rowena demanded.

"I've been telling the others..."

"Spying on me?"

"No, watching to see if you were the one-"

"The one what?" Rowena said, her anger rising. "There is no kingdom left Mina. When will you accept that?!"

"When will you accept that is a bald-faced lie you've been telling yourself young lady," Mina shouted back, using her best motherly voice. It was the voice that Rowena had heard since she was a baby and one she couldn't resist. The princess cowered as Mina stood lorded over her, hands on her hips. "The Ravenclaw nation isn't a place, it's strength lies in its people and its rulers-when they're wise. Out there-(Mina gestured towards the cave entrance) is your kingdom. STOP RUNNING FROM IT!"

Mina stopped to catch her breath. Rowena was wide eyed: the last time she'd seen Mina like this was when she and her younger brother had destroyed the throne room by letting a fire get out of control. Mina and the king had locked them in their rooms for three full days without food as punishment.

"Stop shirking your responsibilities," Mina concluded.

"I'm not, I'm just a..."

"The last remaining Ravenclaw young lady. You are a princess, one day a Queen. Now act like one."

Rowena shrunk back in horror: to make matters even worse, at that very moment the entire cave filled with people. Women, children, and men, all in traditional Scottish attire, many with tatoos including the eagle emblem of the Ravenclaw clan filed in until the cavern was filled.

"They need a leader," Mina told the princess. "I've had enough myself. You've given them hope. Look at them."

 _No escape left for me now,_ the Princess thought, trying not to show on her face what her head was thinking. _It's too bad they are going to be very disappointed. I'm no Queen, just a scared, lost, young woman._

Mina seemed to read her mind.

"She's my charge again," Mina announced to the clan. "She needs rest. She's just been through a major battle, escaped death twice, and got swept down a river. Let her be."

Everyone slowly left, throwing glowing and amazed looks at their princess. Mina shooed everyone but Madea out and brought Rowena a hot mug of water.

"Sorry, but this is all they've got," Mina said.

She helped the princess swallow it all down. Madea left to tend to other sick members of the clan, leaving the two alone.

"Mina, what..." Rowena croaked.

"What? Put any doubts aside child," Mina said, tenderly hushing up her charge. "Leaders make mistake, we're all human."

"Why are you so wise all of sudden?"

"I'm not wise, just a good listener," Mina said, tenderly taking the cup from the princess and pulling some blankets on top of Rowena. "Your mother was full of wisdom, she was. It's sad you never got to properly meet her. That was her quote, not mine. Let it be yours."

"But..."

"No buts," Mina said, shushing the princess. "Quiet now, or I'll use Silencio on you."

Rowena tried to say more, but the look on Mina's face forbid it. She let her maid take care of her. She still couldn't move, and her powers slumbered as though infuriated, but unable to make an appearance. She slid onto her side and instantly fell into a deep sleep. Mina bustled about, making the cave somewhat closer to home.

Before she left, she removed all the black hairs that were draped across Rowena's face, gently weaving them into a small braid to keep them out of the princess's face.

"Good night, my Queen," Mina whispered as she left the cave.

* * *

Helga was hysterical. It took four knights to restrain her from racing back towards Godric's Hollow to rescue her best friend.

"Stupefy," she shouted. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Helga stunned her captors and then darted for the edge of the wood: a red streak of light found her in the stomach and she collapsed to the ground.

"Trouble she is," Salazar observed, levitating the princess back to the main group which was setting up camp deep in a forest on the Welsh border. Magical enchantments had been placed around the party to conceal it from Muggle and wizarding intruders; Helga had plead with the two, but as keenly as Salazar and Godric felt the loss, they still had five hundred refugees to care for. Five hundred against the loss of two, and Helga was the best healer they had.

"She's just lost her best friend, like myself," Sir Godric noted sadly.

"I know," Salazar said, also mournful yet stoic. "We've lost everything. How do we fight back?"

"First things first, is that we need to get these people out of harm's way," Sir Gryffindor said. "Then, we figure that out. I don't have a plan. Mine is in ruins right now."

"Mine is too," Salazar conceded. "We still have more questions than answers. Who is Morgana? What does she want? But, I think we do have some hope."

"What's that?" Sir Godric asked, magically setting up a tent with the lion emblem on it to serve as his temporary home.

"Well, if my memory serves me correctly. Morgana was opposed by Merlin, Arthur, and his knights. They had armies and fought each other in a series of magical battles, all the stories end differently, but the central theme is that Morgana is a witch of some sort who is redeemed."

"Your point?"

"My point is that we must do as Arthur did," Salazar pointed out. "We must become like him."

"You mean we must find Rowena and Mina," Sir Godric said.

"Yes, she only wanted us five, five, why?"

"Because..."

"Because we are the threat she fears."

"We are unstoppable," Sir Godric realized, finally getting the painting. "Together. I'm the expert duelist, you're the cunning mastermind, the princess is the smart one, we have a healer, and Mina..."

"...is a little of everything," Salazar finished. "Arthur was assisted by his Queen and the Knights of the Round Table. Galahad, Lancelot, Percival, and others who helped him."

"Our first task is to get these refugees to safety," Sir Godric said. "My knights will be the rest of the Round Table."

"Can we trust them?"

"We have too, we have no choice," Sir Godric pointed out. "If we do nothing, our world is lost. Our job is to unite with Rowena and Mina as soon as possible and get our Knights of the Round Table up and running. First we get these refuges to the island of Angelesy tomorrow where the Druids used to be."

"Helga? Helga?" Sir Godric said, going into the room where they had put her.

It was empty. A hole had been burned in the fabric, just big enough to let a small woman through. Sir Godric cursed: their job just got that much harder.


	26. Race Against Time

Travails

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."-C.S. Lewis

Helga was scared, frightened, out of her mind. Shivering from the cold, she trudged through the remnants of Godric's Hollow in the nearby woods, wand in hand, trying to keep warm. Night had fallen and a cold February wind had whipped up off the Irish Sea, chilling the air to below freezing. A chilling rain had drenched her clothes, causing it to stick her body, chilling her to the core.

Earlier, she'd burned a hole in a tent to escape to find her best friend. Now she was regretting that decision, yet her heart pang with pain unbearable. The Welsh healer had long since run out of tears of grief. Rowena Ravenclaw was her family; with the losses she'd suffered, pain was an old friend, but this was unbearable. How much more could she lose?

"Where are you?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone, as another wind gust whipped her cloak about.

She tripped and collapsed to the ground as light snow began to fall.

* * *

Deep in the Welsh woods, Sir Godric waited impatiently in a small group of trees. No one knew he was here, if anyone did he was as good as dead. A figure Apparated next to him out of thin air, as he turned Gavin was there (not Sir anyone as Godic liked to remind himself). Sir Godric tried to stifle a fit of the giggles: he was wearing something that looked like it was in fashion when Julius Ceaser roamed the earth.

"You come alone?" Sir Godric demanded.

"As I promised," Gavin said.

Godric did not like the haughty behavior that he could literally feel reeking off of his former...maybe not yet...former friend.

"Are you hoping to change my mind?" Gavin said. "Like I said before, I've just saved all of us."

"From what? Living under a hag?" Gryffindor taunted. Unlike his friend, he proudly wore the lion that represented courage, bravery, and integrity. "What are you wearing, a dress?"

"She's not a hag, she's..."

"An imposter, the real Morgana is dead, surely you know that. Merlin killed her and we found out he was real. This is the biggest act of stupidity I've ever seen. No, Expelliarmus!"

Sir Gavin's wand flew right into Godric's outstretched hand.

"Witch alive? Magical being? Give me a break. Where power rises, an antidote is always there to stop it. How long do you think she'll last before one of her followers murders her in her sleep? Or, better yet, some kills her in open battle? What do you think will happen when...

"B..."

"No, no, the adult is talking," Sir Godric said, getting louder and louder. He was casting the Silencio charm wordlessly as well, ensuring his message would get across loud and clear. "When she finally falls...and yes she will fall...those denied vengeance will come for her stooges, which is you."

"Not if she wins, which she will, and all those who you protect are dead!" Gavin spat back.

"So sad, to see such a brave man corrupted by a hag. See you on the battlefield Sir..no wait, not Sir anymore...Gavin. When we meet again, one of us will breathe our last."

"Then I'll see you on the other side, brother!" Sir Gavin said.

"Good luck finding your wand," Godric said. He tossed it into the woods.

"You..."

Sir Godric had already vanished into the night.

* * *

As soon as they could, Salazar and Sir Godric shepherded the refugees to another safe house where trusted associates would conduct them the rest of the way to Angelesy off the coast of Wales. The two went with all speed back to Godric's Hollow.

"Others?" Salazar asked, confused.

There were no bodies around. The debris had been cleaned up and burned in a massive pit in what had been the town square. The small church at the center of the village had mercilessly been spared, but only one new grave was dug. On top was a massive monument, a jagged stone professionally hewn from rock. In Norman, Welsh, and Saxon it stated;

 **Here lies one hundred innocent villagers and defenders, their identities known but to God. They died defending Godric's Hollow on February 15th. The Last Enemy that shall be destroyed is death.**

"Who did this?" Sir Godric asked.

"I did," said a voice that nearly made both topple over.

King William of Normandy stepped forward out of the darkness, flanked by several men in cloaks and nearly one hundred Norman soldiers.

"Sir Godric, I'm so sorry," he said, giving the Saxon a hug.

"Thanks, your Royal Highness," Sir Godric said, unsure of what this meant.

"Time is short, so I'll get to the point," William said. He was dressed like his men, chain mail armor and cloak, no one could see that he was a King.

"We're facing a common threat gentleman. Both magical and non-magical. These wizards are stirring up rebellions among the common people. Senseless killings are happening all over the country. I think it's time that we set aside our differences and work together for the common good of Europe. This movement is spreading and is even in Normandy."

Salazar and Sir Godric looked at each other, still uncertain. Was it a good idea to accept the help of a Muggle king? Past relations between the wizarding community and Muggle overlords had been tense, not quite like that of Merlin and King Arthur.

"We'll be honored to help you," Sir Godric said. "Our people are safe for now."

"I'm glad to hear that," William said. "My visit to Godric's Hollow was by far the highlight of our travels to the capital."

He looked about, noting some major absences.

"Where is Lady Helga, Maid Mina, and the Princess?"

"We aren't sure," Sir Godric said, conceded. "That's why we've returned, to look for both of them. We were separated during the battle."

"I'll have my garrisons keep an eye out."

"What do you know?" Salazar asked. As much as he loathed William and any Muggle overlord, for once they actually seemed to care about the common people.

"My Norman wizards and witches (Salazar snorted, noting they were the cause of much of the trouble) have detected a Muggle-Wizarding conspiracy. Lead by a witch calling herself Morgana, she is trying to take over the entire British Isles and begin a campaign of terror. We believe she is going to try to making a wizarding outpost where no non-magical blood exists."

Salazar and Godric glanced at each other; it made total sense. Everything that had happened, down to the attack on Godric's Hollow. William's invasion had made the job that much easier, so that when this Morgana had struck.

"I'll take care of the Muggle side of things," he said. "I have my wizards (several men around him nodded) to protect me. You gather what magical forces and men you can. The only way I can see we defeat them is to lure them into open battle. I've fought men in the woods and never came out the winner. Let's say St. Albans, do you think we can meet there in six months' time?"

"It might be sooner," Sir Godric pointed out. "I can give no guarantees."

"That's where I'm headquartered," King William said. "Come anytime if you need help."

Each wizard in William's company grabbed a Muggle man or woman next to him and Apparated away, with William the last to leave.

"Things are looking a little brighter," Godric said.

"I'm not sure about that," Salazar said, still thinking. "I have many qualms with dealing with ambitious men like him, especailly Muggles. That's what Willaim is, the worst of his kind."

"I understand your concern, even your hatred," Sir Godric said. "But the plain fact of the matter is that we have no choice."

"Well, first we need to find Helga and Rowena, and quickly. If we don't, we're doomed."

Both men ran off towards the river where they both had last seen the women.

48 hours later...

No luck befallen the two searchers. Despite searching for tracks, questioning the locals, and even enlisting William's help, nothing had come of it.

"Maybe we just have to accept the fact that they are..."

"Don't say that," Sir Godric roared. "If you do it will come to past in your mind. Defeat begins within Salazar. Always remember that!"

"Wait, tracks!"

The rain the night of the escape had preserved perfectly the escape. A mass of tracks lead into the woods, but two set of tracks lead to the river.

"Do you think?"

"Maybe, still, that's a lead, follow the river!" Sir Godric yelled.

Both drew their wands and hurried on down the banks of the swollen stream. Both hoped it wasn't already too late.

* * *

Rowena's first seventy-two hours as Queen (Princess as she reminded herself) were an absolute hell. Despite being bed bound and unable to walk, an endless procession of problems arrived at her cave step. From issues with living quarters to a shortage of food, she couldn't imagine a worse situation her people. Her head pounding, she slumped against the pillows absolutely exhausted.

"Not another one," Rowena almost yelled. "Mina, tell them the Queen is unable to see any visitors!"

Mina met the woman at the entrance

"Not now, she is recovering," Mina said.

"I must change our living quarters, I can't get along with my tentmate, this is urgent. Now a woman is in charge, she'll understand."

"OUT!" Mina almost shouted. "Fix the squabble yourself. Now GO!"

"Leave her be," said a burly man. "Fix it by yourself. Get yourself a new shelter or tent. Go, go!"

The women stalked away muttering mutinously. Mina was grateful: Dolag, a large warrior with beefy arms and brown hair, blue striped tatoos, and former head of the King's Guard had taken upon himself the title of unofficial protector of the Princess. Rowena had appointed him as her primary commander and delegated the task of filtering what actually go through to her to him.

"How's the Princess?" he asked.

"It's Queen," Mina retorted.

"No, _Princess_ ," Dolag responded. "She doesn't flinch when they use that title."

"But she..."

"Lacks self-confidence? I get it. When the King elevated me over many others to head of his peronsal retinue, I too lacked confidence. The Princess's mother told me that's how they knew I was worthy. A true leader often feels overwhelmed. So please call her Princess until she can be properly coronated."

Mina entered Rowena's room to find Madea in a panic.

"She's running a high fever and is unconscious," Madea said. "I've tried everything I know, but nothing's working. Can you do something?!"

Mina rushed to the princess's side. Rowena was unconscious, and as Mina felt her forehead she gasped at how hot the princess was. She could only guess that some kind of infection had gotten in and had now set up shop.

"Where's Helga when you need her!" Mina cursed, causing Madea to flinch. A sudden idea struck her. "Helga went into the woods when we were attacked invontarily. Perhaps she came back looking for us."

"Who's Helga?"

"A healer, the best I know," Mina said. "DOLAG!"

Dolag came running into the cavern.

"Rowena is ill, there is a healer in the woods nearby named Helga. She has blonde hair, is shorter than us, and was wearing brown dress. Send out patrols to look for her!"

"Yes ma'am," Dolag said. He left the cavern and began barking orders to his men. Over 350 people left the camp towards the location of Godric's Hollow with a description of Helga, each desperate to save the Princess's life.

* * *

Helga's limp body didn't move as snow began to fall and the inhabitants bedded in for a rare mass snowstorm. Four burly Ravenclaw soldiers nearly stepped on top of her.

"We found her," one of them called in Gaelic. "Is she still alive?"

"She's breathing, let's get her to Madea quickly!"

The four raced back towards the cave, collecting other search parties and telling them to return. Unknown to them, Sir Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were hot on their heels.

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! This is probably my last posting for the year. It's hard to believe it's flown by so fast.**


	27. Fate of Three Nations

Fate of Three Nations Hang

"On such small details do the fates of nations often hang."-Phillip Catcher, _Great Gambles of the Civil War_

The four Ravenclaw men bore the unconscious healer into the cave, as Mina unfolded a cot for Helga.

"She's cold as ice," Mina said, feeling Helga's neck for a pulse.

"Men, get a fire going at the mouth of this cave," Madea yelled. "We need to warm her up. It's our only chance."

Within minutes a roaring fire was blazing just outside the cave, defying the efforts of the light snow and the cold wind to put it out. Moving the healer next to the fire, Madea undressed Helga from her wet dress. She tended to the frostbite on her hands and the small wounds and cuts on her body before wrapping Helga in a sheepskin sheet.

"Okay," Madea said. "We'll need to rotate her blankets every thirty minutes. She is unable to produce her own heat, we'll be the heat for her."

Mina went outside.

"Dolag, ensure that no men enter the cave for now," she told him. She was sure that in Helga's current state of undress, it was better that way.

"Yes," Dolag said, stationing himself before the fire.

Mina and Madea spent the next six hours warming blankets beside the fire, changing them every thirty minutes.

"Is it working?" Madea asked.

Mina felt Helga's neck.

"Let's work the blood through her system to spread the heat around," she said. "I'm still not sastified with how warm she is. Get more women in here. I'm worn out. We'll need all the help we can get."

Madea left to get more women from the tribe.

Twenty four hours later, hope was dwindling.

"...go to the forest..." Rowena muttered.

Mina breathed a sigh of relief, forcing back an urge to use _Silencio_. The Princess had already divulged some info that could land both of them in hot water; what else might she say? She left Rowena's room to visit Helga, only to find everyone staring at her.

"What?"

"Only magic can save her now," Madea said. "I need you to use the Shock Spell."

"How'd you know about that? Will it work?" Mina asked Madea, while the six other women anxiously watched.

"It did once before."

Swallowing her reservations, Mina pulled out her wand and moved to Helga's bed pointing her wand directly at the healer's chest.

"THREE! TWO! ONE! GO!" Madea screamed.

Mina mumbled some words and a shot of red light erupted from her wand and struck Helga in the heart. Helga screamed in pain, jolting up in bed, eyes glazed to the ceiling of the cave. She slumped back against her pillows, falling into a deep sleep. Madea felt for a pulse, giving a visible sigh of relief when she felt the lifgiving force beating in Helga's neck.

"It worked," Mina said, amazed. "How'd you come across that?"

"One of my fellow healers showed me," Madea said, being vague. "I really can't tell you. Don't worry about your magic either, we don't care."

"Bad news," a woman said, rushing into the room. "Rowena is getting worse. I don't think she'll live more than a few more hours."

"We'll have to wake Helga," Mina concluded. "She's our only hope. Give her an hour to rest."

One hour later...

"She's WHAT?!"

"Easy Helga," Mina said, holding out Helga's bag then men had recovered along with her. "You're still too weak to move on your own. We'll carry you there."

"Come on, what are we waiting for?"

The women carried Helga into the room Rowena was staying in.

"Oh no," Helga said, her eyes glazed over with panic as she surveyed Rowena's body. "She has a major blood infection and will die if I don't treat her. Mina, get the green bottle in my bag."

"Green, which one?" Mina said, throwing open Helga's bag and finding twenty green bottles. "This one?"

"No."

"Which one?!"

"The one in the middle!"

"This one?"

"Yes, that one," Helga said. "Force it down her throat."

Madea did as Helga directed.

"That will cleanse her body of the infection," Helga said. "Keep Rowena warm and..."

Helga's head slumped onto her chest.

"Helga, Helga, come on, not now!" Mina shouted out of sheer frustration, shaking the poor Welsh healer.

"Do you think that will be enough?" Madea asked Mina.

"I hope so."

* * *

The potion worked wonders, amazing everyone. Rowena's fever broke, the infection disappeared, and her skin tone returned to normal. By the first week of February, she was awake and alert and receiving visitors.

"Dolag, no more else for today, I need sleep," Rowena pronounced, barely able to sit up as it where.

"Not quite yet princess, we caught spies," Dolag said, as four men came in holding two others with brown bags over their faces.

Two men were thrust on the ground in front of her and the bags were thrust off of their heads.

"This is some welcome Rowena," said a red-haired, burly Saxon with a lion emblem on his chest.

"Seriously Princess, you really need to rethink protocol for greeting visitors," the thinner of the two said with greasy black hair.

"Who are these men?" Dolag demanded, not having understrood a word of they just said.

The Princess laughed, getting angry looks from her friends.

"Who are they? Dolag, you just caught our ally Sir Godric Gryffindor, and his friend Salazar Slytherin. Without them, I wouldn't be here. Loose their bands now."

Dolag immediately obeyed upon hearing the words 'Sir Godric Gryffindor'.

"My apologies," he said, bowing deeply.

Rowena translated for him.

"Are your people safe?" Rowena asked Godric.

"Yes, we got them to Angelesy then came back," Godric said. "Salazar, though has come up with a brilliant idea to defeat Morgana and her hordes."

"Really?" Rowena said, intriqued. She turned to her increasingly deseparate chief commander, who was growing more anxious with each word spoken he could not understand. "Dolag, Sir Godric gave all of us refuge, but it turns out the same who attacked us also attacked them too. Salazar, can you do that translation spell you used back at the dinner."

"Sure," Salazar said, pointing his wand at his and Godric, and Dolag's throats in quick sucession.

"Who?", Dolag demanded. Like everyone else, he'd lost many friends in the raid. "We must take vengeance at once."

Rowena sighed; she'd been fearing this ever since she'd run into her people. Vegeanance was part of a warrior's code, but she had been debating how she could halt it until they could get enough men to take on Morgana.

"Okay, sit down, this will take awhile," Rowena told him, resigned to the worse. The entire tale took about twenty minutes to explain, with some parts left out.

"Oh, so it was a wizarding/non-magic attack," Dolag said. "So this Morgana might be behind the sacking of our clan. We have to take revenge on her. What are we hating for? We must march at once to kill her."

"Hold it right there Dolag," Rowena said in Gaelic, knowing she'd have to phrase her next words carefully to avoid the image of cowardice. "While I share your sentiments, I've battled Morgana. She had a huge army and is very powerful. When we take her down, it will be later, not now. Remember, part of the warrior's code is patience. I'm asking you to exercise it now."

Dolag nodded; even the bravest warriors would shun overwhelming odds at least intially to ensure the greatest chance of success. Rowena turned to Sir Godric.

"What is Salazar's plan?"

"We need William of Normandy," Salazar responded.

"What?!"

Salazar brought her up to speed on their last meeting with William.

"That man is a power hungry tyrant," Rowena retorted. "You want to ask for his help?! What do you think he'll ask for in return?!"

"He's on his way here."

"We can do it without them!" Dolag shouted in Gaelic.

"Rowena, please," Sir Godric pleaded. "Just hear him out."

"Fine," the Princess relented. "Dolag, the men need training. Could you please begin drilling the men?"

"Yes Princess," Dolag said, leaving the tent, still muttering mutinously. Rowena wondered how she could mollify his concerns. She was still weak, and the hold on her people not established yet. She'd have to tread carefully for now.

"When does he arrive?"

"Tomorrow at dawn," Salazar responded.

* * *

Word spread like wildfire through the Ravenclaw camp. The arrival of two Saxon noblemen hadn't gone unnoticed and whispers were flying about. The Princess moved quickly to end the rumors, tellling the rest of her four hundred or so people it was Sir Godric Gryffindor and some of his retainers, along with the news that more would be arrving to discuss the upcoming campaign to retake their homeland.

In bed that night, the Princess didn't sleep at all. She laid awake, staring at the roof of the small cavern, her warrior façade gone again. She shook, not from anger or grief, but fear. Rowena got up and paced, her mind racing at a dizzing speed.

 _What do I do, I'm stuck with a title I don't want, and no way out._

With that though lodged in her brain, she settled back into her blankets, her head between her hands. Suddenly, she jolted up, a sudden idea popping in her brain.

 _What if my brothers are still alive?_

Somewhat comforted, she got back into bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.

At dawn the next day, William arrived with the same company that had accompanied him to Godric's Hollow. Along with Sir Godric and Salazar, they went to the small cavern where Rowena was recovering. Her newly appointed maids directed by Mina cleared the cave, leaving chairs for each of them.

Now present in the small cavern now was the Duke, now King William of Angeland and Normandy, Sir Godric Gryffindor, Princess Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Sir Harold, one of William's allies from Ireland.

"We'll, we're here to decide the fate of the our kingdoms," King William said, opening the meeting. "We all know the threat we face. It extends to Wales, Scottia, and Normandy now."

"How should we tackle it?" Sir Harold asked. "It's a wide area to cover. As far as I can see, she had operatives everywhere. My men recently captured several of her men operating along the coast."

"Worse news," William said. "There is a impersonator of me in London right now."

"What do you mean?" Helga queried.

"An imposter on the throne. Whoever it is controls my forces right now. I have to go and set it right."

"What about Normandy?" Godric inquired.

"My wife Matilda is in firm control over there right now, she has a strong cadre of Norman wizards protecting her, but I have to leave a lot of troops there."

"How many do you have available?"

"Those that are loyal to me, 2,500 infantry, 1,000 cavalry, the other 4,000 are scattered over Angeland right now. It will take time to gather them."

Sir Godric turned to the Princess still lying in her bed.

"Princess, how many warriors?"

"Fifty here in camp, who knows how many are scattered about the isles," Princess Rowena answered.

Mina beamed like the rising sun behind her mistress, proud of the girl she had raised.

"However, will they anwser to a woman? I don't know."

Mina's euphoria faded just as quickly as it risen.

"Things look dark," Sir Godric said. "But we cannot lose hope. Morgana can be defeated. We just need to know how. I'm not sure what to do."

Nobody said anything for awhile, a hopeless gloom enveloping the meeting. Salazar waited, delicately turning his proposal around in his mind, unsure of how to share it. When the tension got to great, he carefully made his pitch.

"We use time," Salazar suddenly said.

"Use time how?" William interjected, confused as anyone.

"The longer Morgana has control, the more confident she is going to get right?"

"I disagree," the Princess interjected, rather weakly. Rowena could feel herself fading again. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stay awake. "The longer she's in power, the more strong she'll become."

"That's what I'm banking on," Salazar said. "She'll become complacent. Meanwhile, Rowena, gather your people together. William, gather your army. Godric, raise your levies in the West Country. We're going to need every man to take this hag down. Myself, I'll get all the weapons we'll need, magical and otherwise."

"Hmm," William said. "It's a start. But we'll need refine it furthur..."

A thud attracted everyone's attention. Rowena had fallen out of her bed, fast asleep on the ground. Mina and two others rushed in to rescue the sleepy Princess.

"Meeting is adjourned for now," William said. "Salazar, we'll implement your plan. It's the best we have. I'm going to London."

"We'll have to split up then," Salazar said. "I'll accompany you there, and see what's left of my business empire."

William raised an eyebrow.

"I sold weapons, but my sources tell me my business partners died at Hastings. We'll have to see what's left."

"I'll take my knights and head back to the Welsh border, raise what men I can there," Sir Godric said.

"I'll go with Rowena back to her people," Helga said, nodding towards her best friend. "I'll supervise her recovery and go from there."

"We'll leave first thing in the morning."

"In the meantime," Helga suggested. "I think we'll need to ingratiate ourselves with Rowena's people. I noticed they didn't seem too thrilled when I showed up."


	28. Bonding

**So this one is a bit long. I got really into it, especially the ending, so it's over 4,000 words, twice the size of my usual chapter. Enjoy!**

 **Bonding**

 **"This world of ours ...must avoid becoming a community of dreadful fear and hate, and be instead, a proud confederation of mutual trust and respect.-Dwight Eisenhower**

 **"Respect for self is the beginning of cultivating virtue in men and women."-President Gordon B. Hinckley**

* * *

To everyone's astonishment, nobody could awaken Rowena for nearly forty eight hours. From Friday to Sunday, her people waited with bated breath, despite Helga's reassurances that her body was simply repairing itself. It was while the Princess's withering gaze was absent her people's hatred of all outsiders became quite clear. Only Helga was spared any suspicion as she was the one who had saved their ruler. Even Sir Godric Gryffindor couldn't placate the Ravenclaw clan fury.

On Sunday morning, as the sun finally cracked, Mina's spirits rose as Rowena's form moved and she sat up and stretched. She made to get out of bed, but stumbled briefly before one of her new maids in waiting caught her.

"Thanks," she said to the girl, who blushed deeply. "So, Mina, I'd like to get done this Friday..."

"No, Sunday," Mina corrected, bringing in a fresh blue dress and undergarments. "You've slept nearly two days. Helga said your body was repairing itself."

"Certainly seems like it," Rowena said. "Daighdear. What?"

Everyone but Mina had flinched when she swore.

"We just didn't expect it to come from you," the same maid commented.

"I'm a warrior first, princess second," Rowena said, furious now. "Swearing comes with the territory."

"With a temper to match," another one of her maids commented in an undertone.

Rowena glared at her, causing the maid to murmur an excuse and make a quick exit. Suddenly Godric Gryffindor and Salazar nearly came in, only to be thrown back by Mina. Rowena was still wearing a rather revealing nightgown and Mina was sure she'd roast both men alive.

"What's the matter?!" she demanded. "The Princess.."

"Has to save us!" Salazar said, panicked for the first time in forever, Sir Gryffindor's sword in his hands.

"I can fight our way out! It's the only way," Sir Godric protested. He was only there because Salazar had stolen his precious sword. "They respect strength, not cowardice!"

"What?" Mina said, glancing out to see a mob of twenty warriors armed to the teeth coming towards the cave. "Oh. Why didn't you leave two days ago?"

"We wanted to make sure Rowena was okay," Salazar confessed.

"How sweet of you," Mina said rather sarcastically, not sympathizing with them at all. "She's getting dressed right now. You'll have to wait until she's ready."

"We can't wait!"

"Go ahead, barge in there and get roasted alive, be my guest. I said no and I mean it. Wait here."

She moved into Rowena's room to see the Princess fully dress, but fighting off the maids trying to do her hair.

"I can do my own...Mina, what is it?" Rowena said.

"Armed men are trying to kill Gryffindor and Slytherin," Mina responded ruefully.

"Why didn't they leave two days ago?"

"Said they were concerned about you."

Rowena sighed with a smile; she definitely knew now they were her friends. To hang aroud a bloodthirsty tribe with no protection was something. She left the cave and met the Ravenclaw men at the entrance.

"I'm sorry, but sparring practice is that way," she said rather rudely, making sure they wouldn't try something like this again. "What do you want?"

"We want those interlopers out of our camp," one of them replied.

"And by what authority do you have to do that?"

"The power of the sword."

Rowena considered carefully her next options. None of her options were very good, and she still needed their loyality, yet her people needed to respect her allies in this fight.

"Under the Ravenclaw law of sanctuary," she said, trying to remember her laws correctly. She'd often doodled during such lectures, as much as she hated to admit it. "We are obligated to give safe passage to our allies. If a warrior has some issue with it, he can take it to the monarch, or challenge the guest to a duel. We may be hundreds of miles from home, but the law stands."

She glanced back at Sir Gryffindor, an idea coming to her. There was only one way to gain her tribe's respect.

"If you object, choose your best warrior," she said firmly. "He will then face the might of Sir Godric Gryffindor in a duel tomorrow. If you win they go, if you lose, they stay."

"What?" Sir Godric said, coming up to her. She switched over to Saxon. "It's the only way to gain their trust, as you so wisely said. Now, can you put your muscle to your mouth?"

Sir Godric nodded.

"Good," she said, switching back to Gaelic. "Well?"

One of them stepped forward, the burliest and (in Rowena's opinion) most ugly of them all.

"I'll take up the challenge," he said.

"Good, I'll set out the rules tomorrow morning," Rowena said. "For now, nobody is to touch our guests."

The men left, laughing and hooting amongst themselves.

"I hope you're as good as your reputation says you are," Rowena said in Saxon as she went back inside the cave. "When I fought you, I wasn't really impressed."

"Thanks Rowena," Sir Godric said.

"Sorry, I'm rather blunt, get used to it. It's the only way to win my people over."

* * *

Next day couldn't come soon enough. Sir Godric tried to convince Rowena to be his sparring partner, but she refused, claiming it would look like favoritism. Dolag, who didn't share the people's distrust of the newcomers, agreed to practice instead.

"Wow, you're really something," Dolag said after an hour's worth of practice as his sword went flying out of his hand.

"Been practicing since I was five," Sir Godric said, helping the burly warrior to his feet, "My father hired the best knights to teach me."

"Hmm, if we'd used another weapon, I might've won," Dolag observed.

"Probably, my training is with the sword. If we'd use an ax, you'd probably have won. You are an worthy opponet Dolag. I can see why Rowena chose you."

"Thanks," Dolag said as the two put the wooden practice swords they'd been using away. "What is it about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Most girls fawn over me," he said. "She didn't. She pretty much outright rejected me."

"How?"

"She didn't have to say anything, just a pointed look was all," Dolag conceded.

"Dolag, I don't know all the particulars, but from what Helga has told me, Rowena's father treated her as a marriage object, not as a woman. I wouldn't be surprised if she's well practiced in rejecting men."

Dolag shook his head; his mind wasn't on her, but one of her handmaids.

"The best thing to do is talk to her," Godric said. "Preferably now before all of our time is taken up by the tournament."

"I will."

Dolag found the Princess conversing with Helga and Mina in Welsh. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but they fell quiet as he approached.

"Give me a minute," Rowena told her two friends.

She got up and walked over to Dolag.

"Yes Dolag, what is it?"

"May we talk in private."

"Sure," Rowena said, wary but confident in her ability to protect herself. She waved him out of the cave and towards a nearby creek where nobody else was around.

"I need your opinion on something," he said.

"What?"

"A personal matter," he said, trying to prevent his cheeks from flushing red. "Usually girls fawn over me. You didn't. I'd like to know why?"

"You are entering dangerous territory," the Princess warned him. "Why?"

"I'm interested in one of your handmaids actually. She's cut out from your cloth. I need your help."

Rowena's expression changed and she let down her guard.

"Dolag, I have no room in my heart for a man right now," she said. "Especially with me on the throne...I know, the heir thing is bound to crop up."

Rowena's nostirls flared at the thought. She hoped that one of her brothers was still alive so she wouldn't be pressured into a match so quickly. But there had been no sign of any of them, and increasingly forbidden scenarios had been popping into her mind of ways she could give up the crown and get away.

"Our people are lost and I'm...I'm still not sure if I'm leading them correctly. You know...I don't know..."

She turned away, for once nearly breaking down. Again, her warrior facade dropped and Dolag saw a frightened young woman enter Rowena's features.

"Princess," he said. "This burden may be unexpected, but I know you're up to the task. Anyways, I need your help. May I date your handmaid Brytha?"

"Of course you can," Rowena said without hesitation. "But that creates complications. She's my handmaid and you're my personal commander, something that can be worked out. But what's your concern?"

"How do I win her over?" he said. "Like you, she isn't let's say...merely attracted physically."

Rownea smiled. "In that case, you're going to need to use her head, not your body."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Brytha is very headstrong, smart, and cunning. She's weaseled many a man with her beauty...that's is, she's left a trail of broken hearts. I make it a point to get to know my handmaids. I knew her before I was thrown from the castle. You should've seen the last man who came calling. He ended up drunk and naked in the marketplace the next morning."

Dolag winced.

"That is she outdrank him, stripped him and dropped him off in the marketplace. I'd suggest avoiding drink while around her."

Dolag nodded, now it sounding quite impossible. Rowena read the worry in his eyes.

"Believe me, it's not impossible. They all made the same mistake; thinking with their libido instead of their brain. Many men try to bed a woman before getting to know her; you'll have to get to know her first before then. She might not even give you that until you...or if you marry her."

"Hmmm...how does one do that?"

"Show her your personality. In this case, not your warrior side, which is already quite established. The gentle side, the man who cares deeply about his people. The side I see much of the time."

"Okay," Dolag said. "Thanks Princess."

"Please, just call me Rowena."

* * *

Rowena along with Dolag and Salazar selected a clear, flat, patch of ground in the middle of a clearing in the forest. They staked it off, leaving a large box fifteen feet in each direction.

Nearly everyone from Ravenclaw camp turned out round noon to watch a rare spectable: a knight of England taking on a warrior from Scottia. Even William and a small company of Normans, freshly returned from retaking London and killing a bunch the imposters, came out of his way to watch. When Rowena walked out silence fell over the clearing.

"Today we will see Sir Godric Gryffindor take on Ainsely from Ravenclaw clan."

A loud cheer sent the nearby birds into the sky. She held her hands out again for silence.

"Now, due to circumstances, they won't be trying to kill each other," she said. "We need every man and ally we can get.

"Today, I hope to see Sir Gryffindor prove himself worthy of the trust my father (Rowena had to filter out the bile that threatened to erupt from her stomach at the mere mention of his name) placed in his father."

Some moaning came from the crowd, but everyone knew she was right. They were just four hundred strong, just one hundred warriors. They would need many more men and allies if they were to take back a kingdom.

"The rules are simple, disarm or force them out the ring. The marshals who will watch will be a Norman knight, Dolag, a warrior of your choice, a man of Sir Godric's choice, and myself. I want fairness in this fight. What say you people?"

Another cheer kept the birds from land anywhere close in the forest. William of Normandy strode up to the Princess's side, a dirty, brown-haired knight in armor at his side.

"This man is the most trustworthy and has overseen many tournaments. His name is also William."

"Thanks William."

Willaim gave a slight bow and left to watch with his company. A man in warrior paint came from the Ravenclaw crowd and Salazar walked forward. Each man took a each side of the box, Norman on the north, Salazar east, Ravenclaw warrior west, and Dolag on the south. Rowena perched herself in a small tree that gave her a commanding view of the match.

" _Sonorus_. Please welcome Sir Godric Gryffindor," William's chief translator yelled in three different languages, his voice amplified by his wand.

Sir Godric walked out in borrowed Norman armor, his lion emblem emblazoned across his chest. Jeweled sword in hand and a shield, he walked to the center to boos and some cheers from the crowd.

"Welcome Ainsely of Ravenclaw."

Rancous cheers erupted from the Raveclaw stands at their champion. Wearing facepaint and just a lioncloth, the warrior was big, but Sir Godric was taller. He carried a large Viking sword forged from the real things invaders had left behind when the Ravenclaw clan had driven them from the highlands nearly a century before.

"Alright men, I will tolerate no cheating," Rowena said, striding around them. "No killing either. Take your stances."

Both warriors bowed to each other; Sir Godric put on his battle helmet.

"GO!" Rowena shouted.

The two men clashed and Rowena was reminded rather forcefully of the time she fought the mighty lion. She couldn't help but compare her experience to the one Ainsely was undergoing. Sir Godric _was_ like a lion, his blows measured and carefully placed. Ainsely was wavering under the punishment, but he quickly regained his steps and the two broke inintialy contact, sizing each other up.

"What's going on?" Helga said, coming up to her side. "Oh. More fighting?"

"Don't ask me," Rowena said, wincing as Sir Godric avoided a punishing blow aimed at his stomach. "I'm just hoping Sir Gryffindor is as good as his reputation says he is."

Clang.

The Ravenclaw warrior managed to get a blow in on Godric's helmet. Sir Godric stumbled and the warrior pressed his advantage. Rowena finely tuned fingernails bore into her hands and Helga bit her lip until it blood, both now clearly consumed with worry. Ainsely bore down on his prey ready for the knockout blow.

"Ooff," Ainsely said, pushed back. Sir Godric had slammed his shoulder into the warrior's kneecap.

"Now what?" Helga queried, now holding onto Rowena's right arm, her grip tightening.

"Back to square one," Rowena said, as the two manunvered around each other again. "Hopefully Sir Godric can find a...he's got it."

Sir Godric undercut Ainsley's next blade, causing the Viking sword to fly into a series of grass. Ainsley went down and all the masters of the lists raised their hands; victory to the Saxon. Like any victor, even the mighty Sir Godric couldn't avoid a little showboating, he raised his sword and shield triumphantly into the air.

Rowena's eyes though, weren't on him, but on Ainsely. The cunning warrior had drawn a dagger out of his cloak. She sped forward, past her maids, her newly appointed bodyguards, and Helga. She grabbed a dagger off of a table. She tossed it straight at Ainsely, who was about to plunge the dagger into Sir Godric's back.

"AAAHHH!" Ainsely screamed as the dagger embedded itself in his left kneecap.

Sir Godric turned around to see Ainsely collapsing from pain, his blade falling out of his hand. Rage gripped the Saxon; Godric pointed his sword at the warrior's throat.

"No, don't," Rowena said, jumping inbetween the two of them. "Let me deal with it."

Sir Godric didn't argue the point. He sheathed his sword and left, to thunderous applause from the Ravenclaw clan. Ainsely could only glance up in fear at his ruler, who was bearing down on him like a bear.

"How dare you embarrass me-or us like that," she spat, absolutely furious. All thoughts forgotten, her worries about ruling, about etiquette were gone from her mind. Rowena erupted, her temper at full boil. "I trusted you to represent your clan's honor and this is how you repay me! Only cowards resort to daggers and stabbing men when their backs are turned! I'm stripping you of your rank as a warrior. You'll have to earn it back. COWARD!"

Ainsely let out a roar of rage, rose from the ground and charged at Rowena. The Princess saw a streak over her shoulder-she used the split second to tackle Helga to the ground, shielding the Welsh healer from what she knew was happening behind her.

"Hey, Rowena, what?"

"Don't look Helga, don't look," she warned her sternly in Welsh. "Mina, take Helga back to the cave. Don't let her leave and or look."

Mina nodded and lead Helga away.

"Trust me Helga, I'll explain later."

Helga didn't argue; she trusted her friend and allowed herself to head back to the cave. Rowena took a deep breath and looked behind her. Ainsely had an arrow embedded in his chest and was lying on the ground dead. Next to her was one of her guards, bow in hand. Some of Ainsely's family members had emerged from the crowd. She wasn't sure how to do this; so she did the best she could.

"I'm sorry," was all Rowena could say to them. "I lost it. He disappointed me."

His family took his body away.

"Mordar," Rowena said, causing the father of Ainsely to look at her. "Tonight, we'll give him a warrior's funeral. Even the best of us sometimes must recant our words."

Mordar gave the Princess a grateful look and then left. Rowena sped towards the cave, fresh hot tears threatening to coat her cheeks.

"Leave me," she commmanded her handmaids, guards, Dolag. Everyone filed out, throwing concerned glances at their leader. "You too Helga. I need some alone time."

When everyone had left, the princess collapsed onto her bed, her warrior facade gone for the second time in a day. Exhausted, Rowena laid there for what seemed like hours, fresh hot tears piling up in her eyes.

"Why? Why me?" she mourned out loud to no one in particular. "I can't lead this people."

The Princess could only roll into her covers and and she openly wept.

* * *

Rowena later composed herself to attend to some duties. She found it hard to concetrate though, what happened replaying itself through her mind continuously. Over her life, she'd seen much bloodshed and was hardened to it-or so she thought. Unknowingly, she'd comdemned one of her own people to death? Or had she?

Dolag entered to find Rowena staring at a piece of parchment.

"What going on my Queen?"

"Rowena, and it's Princess," she automatically corrected. It came out before she could stop it. "I just sent an innocent man to his death."

"No you didn't."

"Easy for you to say," she said more vehemently than she expected.

"The people now respect you and Sir Godric Gryffindor," Dolag said, coming as close as he dared.

"I don't know if that's good or bad," Rowena involuntarily said. _Daighgear, why did I just say that?_

What do you mean by that?" Dolag asked, concerned now.

"Nothing," Rowena said, trying to sweep her comment under the rug, absentmindly playing with her black hair. Dolag didn't look convinced though, and she was sure he'd bring it up again sometime.

Suddenly her warrior instincits perked up.

"Something's wrong," she said, getting up.

Two men brought (and to Rowena's bewilderment) Helga Hufflepuff into the cave. A third came behind them, carrying a bag.

"She had this on her," he said, showing a sword and three or four daggers to the ground.

"What?" Rowena said, stunned. This wasn't like Helga at all. Something was wrong, and she was sure she knew what.

"Veageance is a fickle entity," she said, leaving Dolag puzzling. "Bring her to my quarters and let no one else in. I must fix it before that girl becomes a liability. Liabilities get people killed."

Five minutes later, Helga was thrown rather unceremoniously into Rowena's meager chambers along with the bag she'd been carrying. Rowena opened the bag, pulling out two daggers and a small sword.

"Explanation please," she said rather bluntly, hands on her hips.

"I wanted to go hunting," Helga lied lamely. Her hands were shaking in the fold of her dress, something that wasn't missed by Rowena.

"Remember what I said back in Godric's Hollow. That I'd stop you from seeking veaganance. Well you leave me no choice."

"I'm not seeking vegeanance!" Helga screamed, outraged.

"Don't lie to me," Rowena said, trying to keep her voice under control. She approached the Welsh healer, dropping the bag and the daggers off to the side. "I know you too well."

"You just condemned a man to death. Hark who's talking?"

"I didn't do that," Rowena said, suddenly defensive. "It was an accident. The men were about to kill Sir Gryffindor if I must remind you."

"Fine, what if it's vegeanance I seek!" Helga screamed back, wanting to tear her friend apart. She paced about the room relentlessly. "Morgana murdered my family."

"Oh, so that's it," Rowena said, seizing upon Helga's slip like a bird of prey. _I'm impressed, most cower when I'm in a temper. But she hasn't...yet._

"Let me go," Helga said, getting up in Rowena's face. Both were contorted with anger beyond anything either one of them had seen in each other before.

"No."

Helga threw over the table, spilling cups and water to the ground.

"Go ahead, destroy my possessions," Rowena said, taking a seat on the bed. Her most prized possession, a necklace from her mother and a carving of a bear from her youngest brother were stowed safely away in the cave wall. "I've got far too many."

"I...I...I'll" she said, pulling out her wand.

Rowena lunged faster than Helga could possibly have imagined. She covered twenty feet in two seconds, then latched her arms around Helga, tackling her to the ground, throwing the wand into a dark corner of the cave.

"I won't let my sister be destroyed by hate," she said, easily subduing the healer. She was determined to get to the bottom of this by any means necessary.

"Let me...what?" Helga said, temporarily speechless.

"I won't let my sister be destroyed by vegeanance," Rowena said, trying to stop from crying for the third time today.

"But I thought..."

"You thought wrong, and that's my fault," Rowena confessed. "I don't show my feelings well."

"But..I...I hate those men," Helga shouted, on the verge of complete breakdown. "I want...so bad to hurt...them..."

"I know Helga," Rowena said, still pinning the healer to the ground. "I've been consumed by it as well. Let it go. Let it go right now. Just start, for me."

"I...I...can't..."

"Daighdear," Rowena swore at the top of her lungs. "JUST LET IT GO!"

Helga lost it and Rowena finally relaxed her grip on the healer, who stumbled up and away as the nervous breakdown continued. The hate she'd been harboring for weeks crashed against her emotional dam, trying to break free. Helga's caring nature pushed back, causing what the healer felt to be a massive internal civil war. Crying hysterically and in sudden need of comfort, Helga seized the only source of living heat in the room-the Warrior Princess. Stumbling, Rowena's once again blessed her warrior stamina as Helga's full body weight crashed onto her.

She lifted Helga up bridal style, and carried over to her bed. As soon as she set her down, the healer latched onto Rowena like a lifeline. Discomforted, the Princess could do little but hold the healer close, who was now howling loudly, wetting Rowena's blue dress with her tears.

"It's okay, just breathe," Rowena said.

Some of her maids came into the cave; she waved them away, mouthing to Mina to give her some alone time.

"I love you," Helga finally got out.

"What?" Rowena said, stunned. No one but her deceased mother had ever said anything like that to her before

"You're my sister now," Helga said, still howling madly, snuggling into the warmth of family. "My best friend. I love you."

"Me too," Rowena said, positioning the healer better so she could better cradle her. "I'll admit I nearly left you in that slave stall in York. I'm glad I didn't."

The healer went limp; Rowena saw she'd fallen asleep-in the middle of the day. She tucked the girl into her bed and left the chamber to find Mina looking on.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, tucking a piece of the princess's black hair behind her ear. "You finally learned to open up."

"Only to Helga," Rowena said, marching past her. "To no one else."

Mina sighed; Rowena still had a ways to go before she became the women she had always seen in her.


	29. To Arms Part I

**I feel like I'm entering the home stretch of this fanfiction. But enjoy...and warning, battle scenes are going to become increasingly common over the next ten chapters or so.**

To Arms Part I

"War is hell and you cannot refine it."-General William T. Sherman, US Army

February faded away into March as it arrived bringing with it constant rainy, drizzling weather. Rowena became more despondent and dissatisfied. Her temper was starting to surface more readily and only the presence of Helga kept it in check-mostly. On one particularly stormy day, Princess Rowena Ravenclaw stood facing a wall, a blue dress on, black hair streaming freely down her back, a mysteirous book clenched tightly in her hands. She was very depressed and irritable, but lightened up as Helga came into the room.

"Rowena," Helga said, coming in. "Are you alright?"

"Better than I was before," Rowena said sternly.

"Princess," Dolag said, entering.

Rowena motioned for Helga to leave, which she did. She clenched her teeth shut. Every day brought more news of her people, which meant no escape. If she did, she was sure they'd hunt her down and kill her, even if she was a witch.

"What?" she said, her eyes slowly opening. She didn't turn around to face her chief commander.

"My Princess, three thousand more of your people have been found, bringing it up to nearly twenty thousand," he said. "They've all accepted you as their leader. Their rulers are demanding an audience with you."

"I could care less," she spat. "I'll guess...old nobles from my father's council."

"Uh, yes," Dolag said, his insides dancing a little too much for his taste. He too harbored a deep hatred for the old fools that had gathered around the king in the final years before the overthrow of the castle and now he knew the Princess also shared the same sentiment.

"They're little better than animals," she said, not bothering to hide her contempt. In her mind, they were as complicit as her father was in her imprisonment. "I want nothing to do with them."

"It won't go over well," Dolag pointed out.

"Princess," said another man. Rowena's irritable level increased tenfold. "I have grave news."

"What would that be?" she asked, again not facing either of them.

"An army of four thousand Pict warriors are coming."

Rowena rounded at this.

"WHAT?!"

"An army..."

"I know, I know, who's leading them," she demanded. As much as Rowena hated to admit it, everyone was in deep trouble and her sense of duty refused to let her abandon her people to savages.

"I don't know," the warrior admitted.

"Well, find out."

"Of course my Lady," the warrior said, running off.

"Daighgear," Rowena swore, causing some of her handmaids to flinch again. "This is not what we need at this time."

"Prin...Rowena," Dolag said under the withering gaze Rowena gave him. "What are your orders?"

Rowena closed her eyes, dreading what she had to say next. Men were going to die, but she had no choice. She cleared her mind, trying to find the best course of action. She tried to picture her mother, who had often ruled in their father's absences, how'd she handle it. Helga, who had sidled back into the room, inserted her hand into Rowena's, helping to calm her down.

"Send runners to all of our people, I want every warrior here within twelve hours, no less. We'll need everyone we can to take this army down."

"Yes Rowena," Dolag said, bowing and running out of the cave.

"Helga, use your translation spell, we're going to war. There will be casualties and you'll be in charge of treating them. I'm sorry...we don't have a choice."

"No problem Sis," Helga said. Rowena smiled; Helga had recently began using 'Sis' every now and then and it warmed the cold warrior's heart to hear it. It was new to Rowena, having a sister. She was the only girl born in the Ravenclaw royal family in the past 200 years, so it had been a bit lonely.

Rowena paced, reflecting on what she needed to do. She shelved her lack of confidence for now; what her people needed was the warrior Rowena who..but yet...

She turned around and took deep breaths.

Not now...show no emotion...show no mercy.

She took her mother's words to heart and left the cave.

* * *

News traveled fast and soon Rowena had representives...the old fools...at her cave each trying to sell her their battle plan.

 _Idiots...like they know anything._..Rowena thought. She boiled over.

"ENOUGH!" she shouted, causing the discussion to come to an abrupt halt. "I'm not my father and I won't ever be."

Cowed by her temper, everyone shut up. Mina, who was watching and having been on the receiving end of Rowena's infamous rage many times, simply smiled watching men much taller and more muscular than her cower before the Warrior Princess."

"Your plans SUCK!...don't interrupt, because you don't know the terrain."

Rowena had stolen many books from traders, travelers and sympathetic courtiers from abroad had lent her some scrolls. She had studied in detail many battles now that knowledge was finally coming in use. Rowena's mind began racing at a million miles a minute, a battleplan forming before her very eyes.

"We fight them on my terms, we are short by 1,000 men, but they don't need know that. We'll force them to fight unfamiliar to guarantee victory."

"How?" Rendrik, the man who'd she run into near Wales over six months prior, asked. Some of her father's advisors opened their mouths to object; Rowena glared at them and they immediately fell silent, glaring at the newcomer.

"Three things; we force them to charge uphill...don't look at me like that, that's how the Picts always fight. We shower them with arrows, then we hit them from all sides and cut them down. I already know where too."

"Everyone will work, Mina, I want you to leave a trail to the mountain just north of here, where the rocks divide it into three parts. Assemble the army there. Make sure the Picts find it. Helga, assemble every healer, brew every potion, enlarge your clinic, recruit every woman who can be spared. I want archers on the rocks, hidden. According to our scouts, they should be upon us in 24 hours. Move people, Rendrik, Dolag, stay behind."

Everyone scuttled away, her father's old generals throwing her digusted looks...and getting one in return. When they had all left, Rowena lowered her voice.

"Watch those buffoons, I don't trust any of them."

"Neither do I Princess," Rendrik said. "They all have their own agenda."

"Oh, as a silent observer, I watched them very carefully," Rowena said. "I know their agendas. The most crucial thing is not to waste men. Rendrik, you take charge of the archers, let loose when most opportune. Dolag, you're in charge of when to loose the men upon the enemy's front."

The entire camp was a flurry of activity. Mina, assisted by forty women, cut down trees, and left a trail an army couldn't resist. Dolag allocated the men, assigning the old guard, as he now called them privately, to the right, less crucial flank. Rendrik scouted the slopes, selecting the locations for his archers personally. Warriors poured in from all over, received their assignments from the Princess or her subordinates and headed out to designated assembly points.

"No, I will not give you preferinail treatment," Rowena shouted. One of her father's old generals, Chait, a wizened old warrior with a temper to match hers, had stormed into her chamber demanding to replaced Rendrik and Dolag as commander of the army.

"WHY?!"

"Well, were where you when my father tried to set me up with as a bride? When our castle was attacked, why did you run?! Of what nature have been your contributions to the safety of our nation recently? None. Let me remind you Chait (she put as much hatred into it as she could) who're you're talking to."

"If I didn't run I wouldn't survived too..."

"And what have you contributed since, other than barging into my chambers?"

Silence.

"I thought so," Rowena said, pulling her sword closer to her. "Now, get back to the right flank before I strip you of your warrior rank."

"But..."

Rowena lost it.

 _Incendio_ , she thought.

A massive fire erupted all around him, crisping his clothes and nearly setting his hair on fire.

"Get out before I burn you to a crisp," she demanded, waving her hand again and making the fire vanish. "And by the way, my father's law concerning witches no longer stands."

Chait stormed out muttering. Rowena's headache magnified tenfold and she laid down on her bed.

"Ow," she said as Helga came in.

"Headache?" she asked. "I'll get you a pain draft."

Helga left the cave and found Dolag waiting.

"What?" she asked, wary. She didn't exactly trust anyone here, which was why she stuck so close to Rowena's side.

"I need you to put together a Sleeping Draft," he said. "For Rowena, and keep the secret from her. I'll take the full blame for it."

"Why?"

"She cannot go to battle tomorrow, and if I know her like her father, she had a streak of pride in her that won't let her think otherwise. It's Ravenclaw tradition for the King to lead warriors personally into battle...it has gotten a few of them killed...but I can't let her do it. She's our only hope, no one can risk her being killed tomorrow, she has no heir to speak of."

Helga couldn't argue with that, and she couldn't bear the thought of her sister dying.

"Fine, I'll do it," Helga said. "But you're taking full responsbility when she wakes up."

She walked back into her small clinic, which had been set up in a small house built from the surrounding trees next to the cave and began to mix up some herbs she'd collected from the nearby woods.

"Here's your potion," Helga said, having rehearsed this for nearly an hour and hoping it would work.

"What's in it?" Rowena asked, suspicious. Her warrior insticits told her something was up, she just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"A pain draft designed to remove your headache, nothing else, I swear," Helga said, raising her hands up.

Rowena downed it and shuddered; it tasted like raw sheep stomach.

"Yeah the headache is..."

She gazed at Helga, sleepiness taking over her.

"Are you sure, what...you!"

"I swear it wasn't me," Helga said, acting innocent. "It was just supposed to be a pain draft, I swear."

Dolag came in.

"Sorry, Princess, but I can't let you lead the men tomorrow," he told her.

Rowena was out. She collapsed onto her bed snoring.

"I'll hold you to that promise," Helga warned him, knowing the storm that would awaken when Rowena awoke in twenty four hours.

"I'll be back tomorrow, or not," Dolag said.

* * *

A massive, smelly, army of nearly naked Picts marched following the trails expertly made by Mina. Along the way, they were watched by Ravenclaw scouts and their movements expertly relayed to Dolag. On a nearby mountain with trees, stood 2,500 Ravenclaw warriors. Interspersed among the trees, it helped to conceal their numbers. Rocks jutting hundreds of feet into the formed a funnel, evening the advantage in numbers. Behind the Ravenclaw warriors was a path down the other side in case they needed to escape. On the slopes were the archers, both in front of and behind the main body of men.

"Where's the Princess?," Rendrik asked as Dolag came into the tent alone.

"She's asleep," Dolag explained. "She has no heirs, and we can't risk losing her."

"But she's brilliant. This plan will not fail."

"I know, and we're going to follow her plan to the letter. She is good, I'll give her that. She even marked where the army was likely to march and our scouts have reported they are following her path to the letter. So, when the Picts get within sight, we'll have our warriors line up. Per Rowena's instructions, the Picts will charge, we'll blast them with arrows and then lay into them."

"I hope you're right," Rendrik said. "For all our sakes. If we lose, there will be no Ravenclaw clan left."

Upon sighting the Ravenclaw warriors assembled on the mountains, the warriors ignored their commanders and charged. A woman dressed in Roman-esque attire in the center tried to restrain her men, but they ignored her, too busy focused on the small force in the mountain in front of them.

"They're coming," came across the Ravenclaw lines. Many of the Ravenclaw warriors had been scrounging just to survive over the last year and all were eager for a fight. But they remained still and disciplined in their lines.

As the mass of sweaty warriors advanced, runners on the cliffs carefully noted their moments. As they came within one hundred yards, a blue eagle flag raised up, to be met by others on the cliffs around them. Rendrik had a bow and around five hundred scattered around the cliffs that formed a large V-shape. The Pictish army charged up into the opening of the V towards the Ravenclaw warriors gathered at the top. The best hunters from all the Ravenclaw cells that had been roaming the countryside were stationed above the cliffs to ensure every inch of the ground would have an arrow in it.

"Ready, Loose!" Rendrik yelled.

"LOOSE!" circled among the men and around the cliffs.

Five hundred arrows laced into the air. The Picts, busy charging uphill didn't notice them until it was too late. Their mysterious cloaked commanders could only watch helplessly as the arrows did their work, thinning out the Pictish ranks at an alarming rate. Rendrik's men ceased firing when the lines became too close, but their work was done. Around a thousand Pict warriors lay on the slopes.

At Dolag's signal, the Ravenclaw warriors assembled at the top of the V charged and all stragety went out the window. It became one man against other, each struggling for survival with every fiber of their being. Casualties began to mount on both sides, but amongst the Picts it was devestation. Despite the great losses they'd already sustained, the Picts and their mysterious Roman commanders reformed and began to push the Ravenclaw men back up the slope by sheer weight of numbers.

"This isn't good," Dolag said, fending off a Pict.

Rendrik cut down another one.

"We'd better stand our ground, if we lose cohesion, we're beat."

The Ravenclaw men fell back but reformed into a spear like formation and crashed into the Picts again. The second round of fight was as vicious as any in Dark Age history. In the carnage men on both sides lost their lives in hideous fashion. With both armies locked in close quarter combat, the Picts seemed to be winning.

A battle cry drew everyone's attention. Above the hill crested thousands of more men, uttering war cries and armed to the teeth.

"Whose are those?" Dolag asked, as stunned as everyone. Many of the warriors split apart to watch the spetacle unfold.

The newcomers charged down the slope towards the main fight. With them was Rendrik's archers.

"They're ours," Dolag said, now very excited. "Men, prepare to fall back and let the new ones take charge."

The new clansmen tore into the Picts, sparing no one. Dolag's men fell back, letting the newcomers do the rest of the dirty work. So quick was the attack that many of the Roman-like commanders didn't have time to Apparate away. The Ravenclaw men cut them down without mercy. But many disappeared into thin air with a 'pop'.

"Thanks goodness it's over," Dolag said, as his men started the grim process of gathering the wounded and preparing the dead for a ritual Ravenclaw burial.

"Could've been worse," Rendrik said, joining him. "I have news, most of the comamnders survived, but somehow all the old guard are dead or missing. I'm suspecting some of our men helped as well though."

Dolag wasn't surprised.

"No way we can prove it. Let's just keep that between ourselves. No need to report _that_ to the Princess."

"Did someone say 'Princess?" said a voice over their shoulder.

A man stood before him, a man who looked very familiar. Flanked by four burly, barrel-chested warriors, he had Rowena's black hair, blue eyes, but not her thinly swiftly-suited built frame. Muscular like the old King had been himself, he wore black clothes and a dark cloak off of his black emblazoned with a soaring bronze eagle.

"Did you say 'Princess'?" he repeated earnstly. "As in Princess Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Yes, how do you know?" Dolag demanded, suspicious.

The men around the man were offended.

"Easy, they don't know," he said to them. "I am Prince Fearghas Ravenclaw. Rowena's younger brother."

"Your majesty," Dolag and Rendrik said together, bowing.

"No bowing, we are all equal here," he said. "So, back to the Princess. Is she alive?"

"Well, she is," Rendrik said. "We wouldn't be talking about her if..."

Dolag nudged him in the ribs.

"I must see her at once, it's been ten years since my father forced us apart."

"We'll take you to her."

* * *

Rowena was furious. After waking up from the Sleeping Draft, her temper was flaring. What she hadn't expected was Helga anticipated this and had put in an additional ingredient that rendered her unable to walk. Bedridden, she could do little but simmer and snipe and wait for news from the battlefield.

Dolag came in to the cave.

"DOLAG HOW DARE YOU!" she screeched at the top of her lugns. "HW.."

"Silencio," Helga said in Welsh, her wand hidden under her dress. Rowena's mouth clamped itself shut, but only for a moment.

"We won Princess," Dolag said, taking advantage of the momentary silence.

"Who's idea was this?" she demanded, glaring at both of them.

"It was mine," said a voice she hadn't heard in nearly ten years.

"Fearghas," she whispered as a burly man came into the cave. She couldn't believe it; she had accepted all of her siblings as dead. Rowena looked around; she needed to put any recriminations aside for now, yet she was still very happy to see him.

"Fearghas," the Princess shouted. She swung her legs off of her and tried to get up-and forgot about her limp legs. She made it two steps before her kneecaps locked. Fearghas caught her in his arms before she faceplanted and swung his sister around in the air.

"It's been too long, I thought you were dead," Fearghas said. "Or married to a stranger in some distant kingdom."

"I managed to avoid that luckily," Rowena said, still suspended a foot off the ground. Her brother was a head taller than she was and his arms were at least twice as thick as hers. "Um, could you put me on that bed please."

"Sure," Fearghas said, complying. "You can't walk?"

"Thanks to some sleeping potion," Rowena muttered, throwing Dolag and Helga dark looks.

"Why?"

"Ask Dolag," Rowena said, relishing the opportunity to throw her newly found might around. "Why did you do it?"

"To keep you safe," Dolag said, completely calm. "We couldn't risk losing the only known Ravenclaw-at the time-to battle. Who'd lead us?"

"Good point," Fearghas said, "Don't lose your temper with me."

Rowena gave him a dirty look.

"That's my big sister," Fearghas said, shaking it off. "Always hot tempered and lovable at the same time."

"Watch it, I haven't forgotten."

"Could you leave us alone," Fearghas asked Dolag. "Men, take the warriors back to camp and disperse them. Tell everyone the Princess has returned."

His men stood at attention then left. Everyone left the two royals to catch up on ten lost years. Once everyone had gone, the smile dropped from Rowena's mouth.

"Why are you here?"

"To take back our kingdom," Fearghas said, now all business. "I know we've had our disagreements in the past, but I'm going to need your help. I hope that we can establish a close relationship when it was denied us in the past."

Rowena wasn't sure what to make of this or his intentions. In all honesty, she wasn't sure what to think of her brother Fearghus, a man never supposed to inherit any throne. As children they'd been close, but her father had separated them forcefully at age ten. Over time, their relationship had become somewhat strained as Rowena increasingly isolated herself from everyone but Mina.

 _That's something we do have in common. Marry into a rich family and leave the clan. Typical. Yet somehow we both got away with it_ , Rowena thought.

Fine," Rowena agreed, regaining control of her temper. "Fine. Truce for now. But we're going to have to make some major changes around here before I agree to make life tolerable for you."

News spread like wildfire. Everyone knew soon knew of the return of a prince, now the king. Princess Rowena Ravenclaw was also relieved. She was free...or so she thought. Fearghas's ideas for ruling were far different than she expected.

With the support of his sister, Fearghas moved quickly to assert his control and crowd out any potential rivals. He merged Rowena's subordinates into a new ruling council of ten, half the old guard from their father and the other half from more those who had digutuished themselves more recently. The first meeting was held in a forest glade lined with log chairs having, been hewn recently by Ravenclaw craftsman.

At the head of the small circle was the last two known Ravenclaws in the world, Fearghas and Rowena.

"This council meeting will be quick," Fearghas said. "I mean to make two things very clear before reconvening in two days at noon. How this council is going to operate. The head of this council (several of the old guard swelled importantly) will be my sister Princess Rowena."

Rowena was completely taken aback; she didn't expect this at all and she wasn't sure how to process it. Grumbling came from the old guard, while the newest members applauded quietly, including Dolag and Rendrik.

"If a concern is raised by the council it goes through her. I also confer the title of regent on her if something were to happen to me as she is also my heir as I have no issue right now."

Fearghas paused to let his words sink in.

"In effect, my sister and I are going to share the responbility of running this tribe until our lands are restored. We'll divide up the royal duties later on, but I will have no one questioning her authority. Council dismissed."

Everyone filed out, with the old guard throwing dirty looks at the Princess-and getting more in return.

"Why did you do that?" Rowena demanded, completely taken aback. She hadn't expected something like this.

"Because unlike father, I won't make the same mistake."

"Mistake? Which is?"

"Sideline you from royal duty. You see sister," he said, directing her gaze to him. "I believe in you. You just created a battle plan that won without you even being there. Come on."

"Come on what?"

"When will you begin to see yourself as I see you?" he asked. "And lose that temper."

"When did you become Mina?" Rowena demanded, hand on her hips, trying to prevent a smile from breaking across her face.

"When you were locked away from me," Fearghas said. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

"That's rare coming from a Ravenclaw prince. It's not..."

"How you survive, in public yes, in private no," Fearghas explained. "Look, there is no escaping your royal responbilities. If you want them lessened just tell me. No matter what, I want you at the glade in two days at noon. No excuses."

With that, he left the glade and Rowena to her own thoughts. She wasn't sure what to believe about herself now. But she resolved to keep her sword on her at all times. She didn't trust her father's old advisors at all. Next day after getting ready, Rowena had more questions for her brother, only to be met by several of his newly-appointed advisors.

"What's going on," Rowena said, ill-tempered. "Fearghas is the king. What's the problem?"

"He's gone Princess," Rendrik said. "He went hunting this morning. That leaves you in charge."

 _Oh, so that's why gave me so much authority._

"Fine, what is the issue."

She waved the advisors into the cave, wondering briefly how Godric and Salazar were doing in the West Country. They couldn't be doing worse than she and Helga were, right?


	30. To Arms Part II

**So, I'm here again! Sorry, I'm trying to find a decent spell checker, and haven't found a good one yet; can't afford Microsoft Word :.**

To Arms Part II

"Damn the torpedoes; full speed ahead."-Admiral David Farragutt, US Navy

Sir Godric wasn't having a good time at all. Departing after Rowena insisted he leave for his own safety, he'd returned, partially at William's encouragement to the West Country. To his delight, most of the men who'd been under his command immediately rallied to his summons. Many had been under oppression by the magical legions and were more than ready to fight back. Inspired by Sir Fear Not's presence, his force had swelled, but Sir Godric had dispersed them among the villages to keep Morgana from finding out. Establishing his headquarters at Shrewsbury, Salazar came to join him not long afterward.

"So, your house and my house went to war at some point," Salazar asked. Sir Godric was one-no-his best friend. Recently however, he'd discovered in the two weeks since leaving Rowena Ravenclaw's people, their families were a lot more complicated.

"Of course they did," Sir Godric said dismissively. "Must I remind you England was divided into kingdoms like Mercia, East Anglia, and Camelot at the time. The Slytherins controlled East Anglia and my family was in Camelot. They went to war near Stonehenge, as you might know. The war ended inconclusively and we signed a peace treaty. Not long afterward the Vikings invaded and all hell broke loose."

"Oh," Salazar said. "So, it doesn't affect you at all."

"Salazar," Sir Godric said, rolling his eyes. "It was over 500 years ago. I don't hold grudges for that long."

"Fair point," Salazar said.

"What about that basilisk of yours?"

"What?"

"The one you and the girls found near the ruins of Camelot."

"I sent it on its way," Salazar said. "It would've been a good ally though. Imagine, it killing an entire army just by looking at them."

"If only it was that simple, we'd need to kill all the roosters within a ten-mile radius first."

"Fair point," Salazar conceded.

"Still, good idea," Godric said. "You know Salazar, you'd be a great commander if you'd stop hating the nobility so much."

"I have my reasons," Salazar spat. "Don't try to understand."

"Maybe you should talk to Rowena about that."

"I will, she's the closest person I know. We both hate our families, and we both were isolated from those who we loved. I need not remind you of what happened to my uncle Cyne the Terrible."

Yes, I know," Godric added. "My father told me of what happened."

"Your family..."

"Wasn't involved no," Godric said. "Wizards and a Muggle force sent by then King Edward the Confessor were the ones responsible for capturing and executing him."

"Okay," Salazar said.

"Sirs," one of the local knights came running into the house that the two had rented from it's wealthy owner. "An army is on the way."

"Morgana no doubt," Godric said calmly, not an ounce of fear in his voice. "It was to come sooner or later. We'll crush her force like a sponge."

"Hold on Sir Brave lot," Salazar intervened. "We have to win the battle first. I need not remind you to how overconfidence has resulted in the downfall of many a commander. The Moors at the Battle of Tours are one example."

"Well, that's why you get to come up with the battle plan," Godric said. "Account for wizards in the main force as well. I won't be surprised if some of the men who abandoned your family in East Anglia might be there as well."

"It'll be my pleasure," Salazar said with a grim expression on his face.

For the next six hours Salazar shut himself up with a local map of the area, scouting reports of the enemy force, and a rough estimate from Godric of what he had to work with. Eventually he emerged with a full fledged battle plan.

"Wow Salazar, this is amazing," Godric said, looking it over. Salazar had every angle covered, from how far the archers would fire to were what men would stand where.

"It's a little complicated though for fyrdman. Can you simplify it, no fancy maneuvers?"

"Fair point," Salazar observed. "But the..."

"Salazar, the Romans could pull if off, however, if you where to line up the men without classification as to weapon type, they could pull it off. Remember, make the plan modifiable in case something goes wrong."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize, simplify it, and we'll use it."

"One more thing Salazar," Godric said, closing his eyes. "Before you leave, I want to discuss Muggles. You attacked innocent Muggles and brutalized a fallen soldier...let me finish, no interruptions. I have elected to overlook them do to your tragic history, but I feel I must warn you now. By working with me, you agree to uphold the Gryffindor family honor; freedom and justice. Any stain on that honor I will deal with personally. Agreed?"

Salazar couldn't quite see what he meant. He'd been working to get his temper under control, with some success, but he still hated Muggles with a passion. "Okay Godric, it won't happen again," Salazar promised, leaving Sir Godric's presence

Sir Godric was a whirlwind of activity. Visiting every hamlet, every village, every major city in his former lands, men turned out in droves to his command. Soon over 5,000 Saxon and Norman local garrisons were under his command.

"First order of business," Sir Godric said. "We find a battlefield and I already know where."

"Where?" asked Salazar.

"I was thinking," Godric said. "Sit down, this is only for your and my ears only. We need to check out Camelot again."

"What do you mean, Morgana destroyed the place when we fled."

"Maybe, maybe not, when we triumph...don't think otherwise Salazar...when we triumph, we'll slip away for just a few hours in the aftermath with a small retinue of wizards and men we trust and seize Merlin's library Rowena discovered; if it's still there."

Salazar saw only one flaw in the plan. "How will we slip away, and when?"

"During the mop-up when our men are gathering the wounded and the dead," Sir Godric pointed out. "Most commanders retreat to their tents to plan the next day's operations. Nobody will miss us. I estimate two hours tops."

Salazar pondered. "I can fit your idea in, it's bold, I hope it's not too bold."

"I see your point," Sir Godric said. He conceded that sometimes he was a little too bold for his own good sometimes. "Make it quick. We mobilize when the Sun comes up, no matter rain or shine."

* * *

To their utter astonishment, the opposing army did something no sensible, experienced commander would ever try. Whoever was commanding said army lined the men up in a single file column, complete with wagon trains that stretched for nearly a mile on muddy, thin, forested, poor roads rather than taking the well-established Roman roads that connected the major cities like Manchester and was quick to seize the golden opportunity before him.

"Okay," Sir Godric briefed his commanders. "Here's the plan. There will be twenty groups line up here." Before them a rough map in the dirt showing the road.

Godric's army had assembled on a large plateau overlooking the entire valley that the road ran through before them. "In the woods fifty paces from each other, doesn't really matter, line up the 2,000 men in small groups. Salazar and I will be at the front of the column."

Sir Godric drew a small arrow to indicate where the enemy column was marching. "So, upon my signal, the riders will run along the line in these woods holding torches. When the torch passes your position, have the archer unleashed a barrage of arrows, then have your infantry plow into the enemy. Fight then retreat, attack, and retreat. Got it?"

All of Sir Godric's subordinates nodded. "Okay, the enemy arm will break up, the vast bulk of the forward section will run down this road into where the valley opens up. Here, the 3,000 men vanguard commanded by Sir Harold will charge on all sides and finish the rout. Any questions?"

No one asked; everyone was eager to get started. The approaching forces could be heard even though they were at least two miles away.

"I never seen such stupidity in my life," Sir Godric commented to Salazar, and they left to take up command of their battalions. "Why not march down the Roman road. It's safer and faster."

"Let's not curse ourselves," Salazar said. "We haven't even started the hard part yet."

The battle went pretty much as Salazar predicted. The marching army was just coming out of the valley when the rear formations were beset by the first assaults from Sir Godric's and Salazar's battle lions. Riders raced along the lines with torches, setting off more men crashing into the disorganized army. Like the chase in the market and the thieves Helga and Rowena, Godric's men showed the same sense of no mercy. They cut down enemy soldiers, then retreated back into the dark. Within minutes, the enemy army became little more than a armed mob. Men, panicked, lumped together in one large mass heading down the muddy road, harried by Saxon warriors from all sides. Their mysterious commanders again lost all control of their men. When the panicked mass emerged at the end of the valley, spilling onto the large meadow, Sir Godric unleashed his reserves into the armed mob.

When that happened, Godric and Salazar turned on the spot and vanished into thin air. Both appeared on top of the ruins Salazar and the girls had explored just a few months prior. Vast monoliths, the remains of a once-thriving town and a citadel stretched for hundreds of yards in each direction, hidden within a scraggly wood. Salazar looked about, searching for landmarks from their previous visit.

"This way," Salazar said, pointing with his wand. "Lu..."

"No," Godric replied, grabbing his wrist. "We can't risk detection."

A full moon illuminated the wood, but the scraggly trees obscured everything and the dancing light made it very creepy. Salazar lead the way until he came to a large depression in the ground.

"Strange, this entire area was consumed by magical flame," he whispered, examining decade old tree roots and finding them to be scorched.

"Rowena made it clear what she saw."

"Maybe Morgana made us think we saw flame. It's not beyond her capabilities."

Salazar knew that Godric was probably correct. "Okay, no light...how do we..."

Crash!

Salazar went down into the same hole that Rowena had fallen into.

"Okay, I found it," Salazar said, not believing how hard his bottom felt.

"Wow, those weren't flames," Godric noted. "But where do we even stop looking? It takes scholars years to got through all this stuff."

"Wait, there might be a way."

He lead the way out of Merlin's vast library into the chamber where Rowena had translated the word Morgana from. The coffin was still there, the lid ajar just as they had seen it after fleeing just three months prior.

"Hurry, take some of the markings off of this thing," Salazar said, pulling out a piece of parchment and tapping his wand against it.

Markings and ink appeared on it, sketching the symbols that either one of the two men had any idea what they meant.

"We show this to Rowena, maybe it'll have the answers we need."

"Or maybe not," said a girlish voice.

Morgana, her red hair askew, dirt streaks on her face, and mud caked on her Romanesque attire (Godric tried to stifle his laughter). Flanked by two masked men, she looked even more terrifying than the last time Salazar had seen her in person. Eight more circled the two Saxon men from behind.

"Avada Kadavra!" Morgana shouted.

Both Salazar and Sir Godric ducked and the green curse missed; one of Morgana's followers wasn't as fortunate. He took it straight to the face and collapsed, opening a hole in the circle Slytherin and Gryffindor were quick to exploit. Both shot through both the cavern exploded in a litany of curses, counter-curses and jinx. Both didn't look back as Morgana began screaming in rage as they vanished with a small 'pop'.

 **The Battle of Tours was pivotal in history. The Moors were Muslim invaders from Spain who tried to conquer all of Europe. They underestimated Charles Martel (The Hammer), who was at a great disadvantage. The Moors had superior cavalry; Martel had none. But Charles had a veteran force, superior knowledge of the terrain, and he knew his enemy's weakness. Long story short, Martel's men withstood the Moorish cavalry charge, killed the Muslim commander, and sent the Moors packing back to Spain. Seven years later when the Moors retuned, Martel had a cavalry force that went toe to toe with the Muslim horseman and ended any more Muslim invasion of France.**


	31. Cost of War

Cost of War

"Freedom makes a huge requirement of every human being. With freedom comes responbility."-Eleanor Roosevelt

The battles near York and Godric's Hollow turned the course of the war. With Morgana's power over southern Angleland broken, William of Normandy went on the offensive. After retaking London, his legions went north, bringing community after community back under his control. Like Rowena predicted, he had his eyes on a much bigger prize; the conquest of all of Angleland under his control, both wizarding and Muggle.

Sir Godric moved north along the Welsh border, eventually stopping his army at a village named Ottery St. Catchpole and setting up a training camp to turn his fyrdman into housecarls*. Leaving them, he headed back to Rowena's camp with Salazar in tow, to await the arrival of King William to plan their next move.

Rowena was having a rougher time of it. As March faded away into April, she became ever more stressed. More and more, even with her brother as King, her people came to depend on her. Her wisdom, even her magical powers, increasingly endeared to the Princess to them. She felt ever more trapped than ever, drawing the worry of her friend Helga, who became ever more determined to figure out what was bothering her sister.

* * *

Sir Gryffindor was greeted as a Hero when he entered the Ravenclaw camp. He marveled at the size of the camp, the jubilation of finally winning a battle, as he passed through, comparing it to the celebrations that he'd witnessed over his life.

"Godric," Mina shouted, enveloping him in a hug as he approached the small hollow that hid the cave that the King and Princess of Ravenclaw now called home.

"Welcome back," Rowena said and Helga said together, emerging from the cave into the sunlight. Godric puzzled; the Princess didn't look too happy at all. He could see some new stress lines reflected in her face and her eyes concealed a lot of emotion. Helga though, was a bundle of energy and euphoria, in the middle of doing what she did best; heal.

"We have a lot to talk about," Rowena said, gesturing to the opening behind her. "Come on in, grab a chair."

Salazar and Sir Godric pulled three logs into the chamber that Rowena had called home for the past few months and began to tell their stories. When they finished, Helga and the Princess related what had happened to them over the last two weeks. It took all of them over an hour to get through the battles, the stories, and the triumphs of the last two weeks.

"Wow, good work Rowena," Sir Godric said when she finished recounting the battle (and leaving out what Dolag and Helga had done to her). "I can see why your people look to you."

"What?"

"Nothing but compliments and awe on the way in for you and your brother," Sir Godric explained, picking up on her heistance more quickly than she'd have liked. "Really Rowena, you are a great leader. There's nothing to be worried about."

"I know," Rowena said unconvingly, looking away. Helga put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Rowena filed her conflicted feelings away, but she knew Helga could sense them. Never had anyone learned to read her moods and her expressions better than Helga Hufflepuff. She had a love-hate relationship with the newfound bond as Helga was quick to find the flaws and moments of weakness she'd rather keep hidden.

"We really need to talk," Salazar said, looking at Sir Godric. "Just the four of us. Alone, on our horses away from everyone."

"Why?" Rowena asked, her eyes narrowing like a hawk, an expression the other three knew all too well by now.

"About the future of Brittania."

"I'll tell my patients I'll be away for a while," Helga informed them.

"Alrght," Rowena said, trying to conceal her excitment of finally giving her brother a dose of his own medicine. "Let me get Eagle and tell my brother Fearghus I'll be gone for awhile."

* * *

The next day broke as dawn across a land brimming with newfound hope, but found the four riding peacefully through a glen. Eagle, Healer, Braveheart (Godric's war mount) and Salazar's new horse Serpent rode quietely through the thickets, the women flanking the men in the center. The four horses trod silently across a landscape scarred by years of mining, the forests obscuring what had once been vast quarries where thousands of years prior, skilled Stone age miners had carved multi-ton stones from mountainsides and moved to nearby monuments. Now the remains of the stones were covered by ivy and surrounded by forest, creating an eerie scene that kept everyone on edge.*

"So, what is you want to talk about?" Rowena asked, breaking the silence.

"Our plans for the future, this war will be over and Britianna will be in ruins," Salazar said. "We need to rebuild our world, with a man like William in charge."

"Well, obviously William will be king," Helga interjected, slowing her horse's speed to a light trot. "Rowena will be the Princess of her people..."

"No, I'm talking about our kind. Wizards and Witches," Salazar said. "This war has destroyed our way of life. We must rebuild it. The Muggles will take care of themselves."

"I've been thinking about that," Rowena said. She felt divided, lost; she was a Princess in charge of a powerful clan, but deep at heart she was also a highly-gifted witch, a product of two very different worlds. "I don't want any child to go through what I went through."

"Or be burned at the stake," Godric added.

"Well, we need a way to prevent that from happening and make sure evil magic isn't taught," Salazar said. The problem had been ruminating in his brain for sometime, but he couldn't figure out what to do about it.

"A school," Rowena said, a candle going off in her brain.

"What?"

"A school," she said, her facing lighting up like the sun. Helga was the first to catch on.

"A school hidden away from non-Magical eyes," the Welsh healer added. "Where teachers will teach the youth of the Wizarding community to hate evil, love the good and how to use their magic. We'll save hundreds, perhaps thousands from burning at the stake. It'll save our future."

"That's all great and such..." Sir Godric began, many obstacles surfacing before his mind.

Suddenly a massive beast lurched into the clearing. Rowena gasped; it was something she'd just seen in books and had no wish to ever meet it in real life. Of the others, only Helga's eye widened in recoginition because of the many cases of poisoning she had dealt with over her career. It had the body of a large lion and the tail of a scorpion, and it was mad as hell for no reason in particular.

"Manticore," the Princess shouted as the beast charged. "It has lethal poison."

She jerked the reins and Eagle ran towards the Manticore, jumping clean over it's body.

"EXPULSO!" Rowena shouted.

A massive explosion blew out the Manticore's feet from under it, causing it to slouch to the ground and turn in pursuit of the Scottish princess.

"Rowena how dare you!" Helga shouted hysterically as the beast lumbered after the Ravenclaw princess. When she had eluded it Rowena tied Eagle in a tree small hollow. She rubbed Eagle's nose affectionately, pressing her forehead to her faithful mount's nose.

"I love you, thank you for everything. I will return."

With that Rowena turned and ran back. The sight that greeted her was one she did not want to behold. Serpent, Healer, and Braveheart had all run off into the woods, leaving their riders on the ground.

" _Incendio_ ," Rowena shouted, aiming for it's scorpion tale. Her spell hit it's target.

Flames licked the Manitcore and it rounded on her, just what she wanted.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," Godric yelled. A jet of red light hit in the rear, and it turned back. The four surrounded it and began blasting it with every spell they could think of. Salazar used every dark curse, everything he could remember his uncle had used. It only made the Manticore even more mad.

Salazar intently analyzed the beast as spells fruitlessly bounced off it's mane, trying to find a weak point.

"Okay, I've got a..."

The Manticore roared at Salazra, who ducked as it's tail whipped just inches from where his head had been.

"Rowena, Helga, distract it," he shouted. "I'll weaken it, then Godric take it down with your goblin-made sword."

 _Basilisk, come,_ Salazar hissed softly. He hoped the Basilisk they'd encountered near Camelot's ruins was nearby.

Rowena and Helga nodded, Sir Godric retreated from the battle briefly, to find higher ground. The four friends had now pushed the manticore from the woods into a large meadow. Rowena dashed at it, but it cut her off, trapping her in a small depression in the ground.

 _Incendio! Stupefy! Expulso! Petrificus Totalus!"_ Rowena thought, blasting it with spell after spell.

Helga slammed into her, throwing both women down into a small ravine as a stinger the size of a man plunged into the rock where Rowena had just been sprinting. The Matincore roared with frustration, slammed the ground with it's tail again, deprived of a kill.

"How many times have you saved me?" Rowena asked.

"Too many," Helga responded, bemused.

Both women jumped out as the Maticore stumbled into the ravine. Salazar saw his chance. He mumbled some words and a powerful spell slammed into the beast, knocking it over.

"Stupefy!" he yelled for good measure and retreated as it got up for another bout.

Rowena charged at it; it slammed its full tail into her and she was thrown back first into a rock and slumped to the ground unconscious.

"Rowena!" Helga shrieked. She covered the Prinecss's body with her own as the Manticore raised it's stinger.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Sir Godric yelled, leaping onto it's back. The Manticore began to buck like a wild horse, but Sir Godric had a plan.

Mumbling some words under his breath, he clung on with a Sticking Charm.

"Salazar, use that curse again, blind it!"

Salazar smashed the Manticore's eyes as Sir Godric plunged his blade into it's neck; it threw him off, and he came to rest next to Salazar. Both of their wands and Godric's ruby-encrusted sword vanished into the night as it advanced on them.

"Now what?" Sir Godric asked Salazar.

"Just wait."

Nothing happened. For what seemed like forever to the mighty lion, the Manticore sized up the two helpless morsals of meat. Sir Godric was determined to go down fighting, alive and proud like King Arthur of legend. Behind the manticore lay unconscious Rowena and Helga, who was frozen in place by fear.

As the manticore raised it's tail a massive green body barreled into the clearing.

"The Basilisk is more powerful than the Manticore," Salazar shouted as the massive snake coiled itself around the manticore, snapping the scorpion-like tail off in the process. He looked around; Godric had resolutely shut his eyes.

"It won't kill you, trust me."

Sir Godric did so, his trust in Salazar was by now such that he overruled what his gut was telling him to do. To his astonishment, the most majestic serpent he ever saw moved before him, and it whipped around as it sank it's fangs into the manticore's body; it's eyes were closed.

"Wow Salazar, you can control it?"

"No, I asked it for help," Salazar explained. "He's my friend now."

The Basilisk, when the manticore had stopped moving, slithered to face Salazar. Salazar pressed his head against the Basilisk's body for just a moment, hissing to it in a language that only the two could understand. Slowly the serpent left, slithering away into the woods.

"Thank goodneess," Godric said when the snake had departed once more. "That was close."

"Rowena," Helga said, helping the sturdy but dazed warrior princess to her feet. Rowena shook her head, taking in the dead manticore on the ground.

"You guys are alright," she shrieked, enwrapping both Godric and Salazar in bone crushing hugs that left both gasping for air. All were left shocked; Rowena Ravenclaw never gave out hugs.

"Thank you so much," she added, now crushing equally-shocked Helga. "What would I ever do without you?"

Rowena froze when she realized what she had just done. An awkward, uneasy atomsphere pervaded the hollow for a moment as her cheeks turned a nice shade of pink. Sheepishly the Scot bolted away to find Eagle before her face was the color

"Now let's go find our horses," Salazar said when the moment was over.

As the four rode away from the dead Manticore's body northward back towards the Ravenclaw camp, a new feeling was shared between the four. They weren't just a motley group thrown together by survival, they were now best friends, a team, united as one despite their differences.

"So, friends?" Rowena said, willing the blush back down.

"Friends, dear sis," Helga added, nudging the princess playfully.

"Comrades," Sir Godric said.

"Witches and Wizards," Salazar finished. "Ok. Enough moosh. Let's win this war for once and for all."

 **During the Stone Age, Neolithic people erected hundreds of wooden and stone circles throughout the British Isles, the most famous and impressive of which is in Stonehenge. Stone would be quarried for local use, some used more heavily than others.**


	32. Gathering of the Armies

**Welcome back, the next major chapter in a four part climax. Read on and enjoy!**

Gathering of the Armies

Salazar's words proved to be prophetic as events came to a climax rather quickly. Sir Godric gathered his Saxon forces and marched them to York, the closest major city to the Scottish border. William arrived, keeping his horseman and infantry to the southwest of the city while Fearghas reoccupied Ravenclaw castle and the town. Sadly, the Ravenclaw clan found everything burned to the ground, but dug into rebuilding with renewed determination, aided by the witches and wizards within their ranks. By April 20th, the city of York once again played host to armies totaling some 20,000 total men (and women).

Rowena Ravenclaw remained behind, relieved at the departure of her people. Salazar interrupted her musings one morning. On the days (20th) before a great council to decide what to do, Salazar broke into Rowena's new housing accomdations, dashing before her quick minded handmaids; almost.

"Hey, why are you doing this?" Salazar demanded. He got past everyone but Brytha, who promptly slammed him against a wall. Three other ladies all joined in, overpowering him and were on the verge of tying him up when laughter caused everyone to stop.

Behind them, in matching blue dresses, Rowena, Mina, and Helga were giggling uncontrollably.

"Rowena, call them off," Salazar demanded, his serpent tunic askew.

"Why?" she cried, tears streaking down her face. Helga was gripping her shoulder for support.

"I need you to look at something," he said. Despite Rowena's strong urging, Mina and six other handmaids had refused to leave their mistress and Rowena found she didn't have the heart to force them to go.

"What?" Rowena asked, sparks in her eyes. "Sorry." She really should be a better friend as this friendship thing was still very new to her. "I've had a bad morning."

"This," Salazar said, holding out a piece of paper.

Rowena's eyes widened as she recognized the writing.

"You went back to Camelot," she deduced. "You could've been killed!"

"Anything to win this war," Salazar dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand. "You haven't been very careful either if I might point out."

"Daighdear," Rowena swore.

"I do have a fair point," Salazar smiled, relishing in his small victory over the impish Princes

The ankles of Salazar's pants caught on fire.

"Aquamenti!" he shouted, shuffling in disgust. His ankles were now very exposed to the world.

"Keep your tongue," Rowena reprimanded, as her handmaids giggled around her. "Give me an hour. This thing is written in many different languages, but enough is in Latin I might be able to render a partial translation."

Salazar didn't actually leave. He wittled away the time by trying out some new spells he'd invented on the trees outside a new house Rowena had recently erected ('I've had enough of that bloody cave!') along with Helga. It was much bigger than their small flat in Godric's Hollow, was constructed of log walls and sported a thatch roof. The back half of the house had four beds for Helga's clinic, while the front half was a room with a chair, two desks, and bookcases for Rowena's work as the Princess.

Rowena emerged flanked by Brytha and another one of her ladies-in-waiting, with a barn howl hooting quite happily on her left shoulder. Of the six, Mina had managed to find three that were magical and three non-magical, to give the Princess some form of protection, something she conveniently neglected to tell her monarch.

"I've got the translation done," she said, quite pleased with herself. "I have other news as well."

"What is that?" Salazar asked.

"My brother sends word to keep me updated by owl," Rowena said, at the same she transferred the owl on her shoulder to her arm. She tied a piece of parchment to it and it flew off towards the north. "Our scouts have reported a huge army assembling in the Scottish Highlands, a region dominated by the Picts."

"How huge?"

"Scouts have a habit of overestimating enemy numbers, but their guess is 20,000-25,000 in camp. I'll wager they are about accurate. They've seen a woman giving out commands in a tunic. I think it's safe to assume that idiot who calls herself Morgana is in personal command now."

Salazar gulped.

"How many do we have?"

"Well, my clan can supply 8,000 at most, we have William's 7,000, then Sir Godric's army as well. That leaves us at less than 20,000 total and that's if we can get three different nationalities to work together."

Salazar scrutinized the princess, who didn't seemed even perturbed by the disparity in numbers. "You seem quite confident."

"I have to be," she said. "My people depend on me. Court manners you know, hide your true emotions."

"Must've been rough."

"You have no idea."

"Remember to be here tomorrow," she reminded him rather sternly. "At the council in York when we all get together to plan on how to hopefully eliminate the enemy. Here's the translation as well."

Salazar read it, his face darkening with every word.

"What does this mean?"

Rowena switched over to Saxon, so only that Salazar could understand her.

"It means somewhere in the Scottish highlands is a place where the real Morgana collected and practiced necromancy before Merlin and King Arthur slew her after a fierce duel."

"That's just what the legends say."

"I think we've seen enough to say King Arthur was very real. And I'd argue that library near Wales proves it."

"Fair point," Salazar conceded. "But...that means Morg..I mean whoever it is after whatever it is is there."

"Precisely my point," Rowena explained. "According to this, the real Morgana was spirited away and hidden to rest in Camelot to await her...resurrection...what a bunch of idiots."

"Where is it?"

"Here's my secret," Rowena whispered to him. "I'm pretty sure I already know. I've been there many times, but haven't looked. I've dreamt* of it, on a hill overlooking a large forest and lake, somewhere around there is her lair."

"Well, if you do, we must get it first."

"Easy," she said. "We don't have the numbers and I don't want to risk anyone else getting it either. However, I have an idea. We build a school on top of it to prevent anyone from getting to it. And make sure we win tomorrow, if we don't, we're in twice as much trouble."

Salazar wasn't sure what to say to that pronouncement.

"School, really?"

"Yes, school. I'm dead serious. It'll just take some time, I want you to help me as well as Sir Godric Gryffindor and Helga. With the four of us, we can create a safe place for our youth."

* * *

The Great Council took place the next day in the largest church building in York*. William had taken the pleasure of temporarily 'borrowing' the building from it's priests and had his wizards go over every inch of it, enchanting it against eavesdropping. Rowena and Fearghas arrived first, she was wearing a blue dress with the Eagle emblem emboidered on the front and Fearghas was bare-chested with the same eagle emblem tattoed on his body.

Behind them was Salazar and Godric, both wearing the serpent and lion emblems of their houses, along with Helga in a simple yellow dress. When they entered the church, all of the benches had been cleared to the wall, with a round table for eight people in the center of the church.

William and two of his subordinates already occupied three of them. What drew everyone's attention though was the presence of a palmino colored Centuar, a creature known only from Greek mythology. The five took their seats from left to right; Godric, Salazar, Helga, Rowena, and then Fearghas. Never had such a meeting taken place before and Rowena was sure it would probably never take place again.

Rowena stood up first.

"Before we get started, let's put aside our customs," she pointed out. Every one of the leaders had used Helga's translation spell on themselves to make the meeting go as smoothly as possible. "Our focus is on defeating Morgana, who threatens us all."

"Us too," the Centaur added. "My name is Barjon, Mars is bright tonight. The God of War's star predicts us victory."

No one said anything to this; most at the table didn't put much stock in astrology.

"Well said," William added. "No titles either. I'm not 'King' or 'Duke' here, I'm just William. Can we all agree on that?"

A gentle murmur of assent sounded through the church. Fearghas opened his mouth, but quickly shut it under a scathing look from his sister.

"Bishop Earlred, please brief us all on the situations."

Bishop Earlred was the Catholic Bishop of York, a man widely respected among both the wizarding and Muggle populations in Scottia and the Saxon kingdom. Everyone could not but help trust the prominent church leader, who was renowned for helping the poor and often mediated peace during wartime.

Up on the wall was a crude, but somewhat accurate map of Scottia. Earlred motioned to the area that was covered by mountains.

"Somewhere in here, Ravenclaw and Norman scouts have each reported the same situation. A massive army of Picts, mercenairies from abroad, Vikings, and magical folk has been gathering here. Based on the state of the camp, we estimate it will leave and march south towards York within the week. As we speak, spies continued to track their movements."

"Numbers?" Godric asked.

"Number don't win a battle, strength and determination do," Fearghas snorted dismissively. Godric ignored the slight.

"Twenty five thousand."

Everyone gasped; Fearghas snorted.

"Twenty five thousand," William's subordinate said. "We'll be massacred, especailly if we have to fight with the likes of them."

He pointed in Fearghas and Rowena's direction.

"Really, I bet your men will run when they crest the ridge," Fearghas retorted, cracking his knuckles. Only Rowena's firm grip on his shoulder prevented him from pummeling the man on the spot.

Arguments broke out along the table. William sighed; this was worse than the Battle of Hastings where the Bretons, mercenaries he hired from a nearby kingdom, nearly costed him the battle.

"ENOUGH!" William shouted; all bickering died at once.

"This bickering is pointless," he said, taking firm control of the meeting. "The biggest challenge we face is how to stop this threat before it takes all of us out."

William's authoritative voice, plus his experience in such meetings, allowed him to quickly establish himself as the firm leader in the room.

"In consultation with Godric, Fearghas, Rowena, and Salazar," he said. "This what I'm thinking."

He held up a board and nodded at one of his wizards; white lines appeared on it. Three circles appeared first, each representing an army.

"Our armies have never fought together before and they won't."

"They won't?" Salazar squeaked out. "Then..."

He feel silent at Helga's glare; clearly Rowena and Helga knew what was coming.

 _Let him explain_ , she mouthed to him.

"Our armies will attack in three different locations with the goal of wiping out Morgana's forces piecemeal."

"How'll that work?" Sir Godric asked.

"According to our scouts the army is mostly composed of Picts, mercanaries, but most importantly, enemy troops from France."

A wave of murmuring broke out amongst the leaders.

"Why would France want to help a lady like Morgana?" Rowena demanded.

"This movement is far from being an Angelland based movement," William said. "My rivals for the territory of Maine, they are willing anything they can to weaken me."

"What sad..." Fearghas began before his slips sealed themselves. He threw a dirty look at his sister, who rolled her eyes.

The lines on the board changed to a map of the local area. A city labeled 'York' in four different languages appeared, along with a silhouette of the nearby valleys, mountains, and rivers.

"Everyone will announce their own part of the plan," William said, tracing a road that lead from the city of York northwards. "My troops will advance along the only Roman road that leads to York. Right here is a wooded field that will allow us to hide our numbers. They will see my army first and, hopefully eager for battle, will break ranks and charge."

"Godric," William announced.

Sir Godric stood.

"There are two valleys here," he said, pointing out lines that were astride the main road leading north from York. "My fyrdman will be in this valley across from William's men. Morgana's army will be strung out along this road; we'll attack and draw off part of her forces."

A wave of murmuing broke out among the Ravenclaw clan representives.

"Shut it!" Rowena shouted at them. "I'm up next."

Disgruntled, they waited, envious of being the ones to go last; another glare from their monarchs was enough to keep all of them quiet.

"The Ravenclaw men will do what we've been doing for the past four hundred years; fight."

Anticipation grew among her generals; Rowena blessed all the time she'd spent watching and learning the weakness the men of her father's court. She had them right in the palm of her hand.

"The woods along these ditches will provide the perfect cover," she said. "When Morgana's men see William's troops, they'll charge thinking they'll have an early victory. When they are about forty yards from him, we'll let loose on them with arrows, then smash into them from two sides. In effect, we'll be in the main vangaurd of the fight.

"Fearghas."

Fearghas came up next while Rowena took her seat.

"A small force of about five hundred of our best warriors will be in reserve here," he said, pointing behind the lines of the Ravenclaw troops. "When our troops engage, I will let them loose on the rear of our enemies."

Barjon trotted forward to speak next.

"We have five hundred Centuars, but we'll come when the stars are aligned."

"Aligned to what?" one of the Saxons asked.

The Centuar clopped out of the meeting without another word. William quickly stood up again, taking control of the meeting once more.

"The floor is open to discussion now..."

The next while was filled with talk of provisions, revision, more revision, arguments, glares, and suspicions. Eventually though, the plan to divide the armies into three spearate sections remained largely intact. After five hours of planning, the meeting broke up. As Rowena walked away, Helga caught up to her.

"Some plan uh," she whispered.

"Yeah, have you ever heard of a plan that could go wrong in so many ways," Rowena muttered so that only Helga could hear.

Helga gulped.

 **Some major historical notes. For centuries, the church was the largest building in York as the city changed hands during the Age of the Vikings. Brittany is now part of France, but for about seven hundred years, the province fiercely remained independence of it's larger neighbor's attempt to control it, even harboring some of England's fugitives (including King Henry VII, father of Henry VIII), often allying with many of France's enemies to remain independent. It would often rent out soldiers, and a large portion of William's invading force was from Brittany. They retreated during the Battle of Hastings, almost costing him the battle. But in 1532, France finally absorbed it and it's remained a part of that country ever since.**


	33. Battle of the Nations

**The penultimate chapter arrives! Save some time, it's over 6,000 words. Normally a chapter like this would be split in two, but I figured to put them all together. I had a lot of trouble putting this together and it may undergo further editing later. But enjoy! Epilogue will be uploaded hopefully on Saturday.**

Battle of the Nations

Morgana's forces moved more quickly than anyone anticipated, upsetting everyone's plans. By the 25th, a Thursday, her massive army had reached the old Roman Hadrian's Wall and easily crossed it. Back in William's camp, it set off panic alarms as Ravenclaw and Norman scouts' reports became ever more alarming.

Rowena paced, heavily conflicted. Her choice; accompany her people to the battlefield or stay behind like last time (she didn't have a choice in that matter she reminded herself). As she paced, she tried to keep her emotions, which had been on a rollercoaster lately despite her facade, under control. Suddenly, the doors sealed themselves and her legs locked up.

"NOT AGAIN!" she shrieked as she collapsed to the floor, onto her back. Blowing some of her black hair out of her face, she saw Helga above her.

"Don't tell me you..."

"I did," Helga retorted. "Time to the second. We need to talk about your lack of confidence. I have an antidote too. But jinx me and I won't lift it."

Rowena cursed Helga inwardly with every swear word she could remember in Saxon, Welsh, and Gaelic, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Something's been bothering you lately," Helga stated, walking around the immobile Scottish princess. "You've walled yourself off again."

"No," Rowena adamantly denied.

"Lair," Helga said, atonishing herself with the amount of venom in her voice. "You're my sister, we don't lie to each other. We help each other out."

"Helga, you can't understand," Rowena retorted.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Helga said, sittting beside the legless Rowena. "Now talk to me, or else you're not going anywhere for seventy two hours."

Rowena huffed mutinously. For years she'd escaped corner after corner, but she finally had to admit for once there was no getting out of this one.

"I can't lead my people," she finally admitted, dropping her exhausting facade. "I haven't been prepared, I..."

She turned away from Helga to hide the tears threatening to leak out of her eyes.

"I know it's hard and I have no idea what's it like, but you are meant to lead. Your father had no idea what kind of a resource that was...rotting away in the castle."

The tears won. Rowena lost her composure and broke down. Helga gathered the broken Princess into her arms, grateful for the Silencio charms she'd placed on the walls. For over a year she'd puzzled over why Rowena hid her emotions; only recently had she finally understood why.

"Your people can't hear anything," she whispered, hastily drying away Rowena's tears. "Deep inside is a powerful warrior leader, just not a facade. I'm asking to believe in yourself for once."

"I do," Rowena retorted, facing the wall and trying to keep her temper in check.

"No you don't," Helga stated. "Everything that goes wrong you blame on yourself. Nothing that has happened recently is your fault. You should be proud. Your people are alive, they're fighting, and they love you."

"That's the problem," Rowena, said turing to face the Welsh healer, fear etched in every pore. "What happens when I fail?"

"You get back up and get going again. As a leader, like me as a healer, there are times when we have to do things that we know aren't going to be popular. Like when I told a family there was nothing I could do. They tried to use the Cructiatus Curse on me. I barely escaped."

Rowena didn't say anything.

"Tomorrow, you will lead your people in battle. I won't bail you out."

Rowena swore.

* * *

April 25th, a Thursday, dawned clear and active. A certain nervousness hung in the air, as if nature itself was anticipating what was too come. Tents were packed up and three armies moved into the highlands. Fearghas and Rowena moved their overeager warriors into position, spreading them out in groups of fifty and hiding them among caves, trees, and rocks.

William's army of veterans moved into position astride the main road, about ten miles north of York in a line that stretched for half a mile. The fyrdman of Sir Godric Gryffindor nervously took up station next valley over, separated by a large canyon. No escape routes where chosen this time; it was do or die.

Sir Godric, on newly retrieved Braveheart, galloped up to William.

"Our troops are in place, do you think this will work?"

"What choice do we have?" William pointed out. "As the meeting last night showed us, our men would rather fight each other than Morgana, even if each of them had a spear pointed at their heads.

Several scouts, both Norman and Ravenclaw came up on horses.

"They come Your Highness," a Norman said to William. "In numbers and weapons far greater than our own."

"Boldness wins battle, not numbers," Sir Godric offerred.

"But they help," William muttered as a massive army crested the horizon. At Hastings he had an advantage in cavalry, but he was sure that wasn't the case this time.

Thousands of ugly Pictish warriors, many wearing nothing, beating their chests and bearing all manner of arms. Behind them were properly dressed men William had no difficulty recognizing.

"Franks," he snorted. "Among my archenemies. Not surprised."

All of them roared in unison, beating their chests, swords on shields, rocks, anything, a formidable sight. Behind them, drawn by four white horses was a chatriot and Morgana was on it, her red hair tied back, in full Roman plate armor. Behind her was company of wizards and...

"..are those what I think they are?"

"Ugly, half horseman," Godric ventured.

"Lapiths," William said. "They are the centuars utmost mortal enemy. Will the Centaurs comes?"

"I don't know," Godric shrugged. "I'd better get back to my men."

* * *

Everyone watched and waited with anticipation. The wizards and witches behind Morgana raised their wands and muttered a spell. Fireballs erupted from the wands and they sent them into the air, towards the ranks of all of the opposing armies.

"GET DOWN!" Fearghas and Rowena yelled.

But it was too late. Screams emanated from the men as fire boiled the air and sent plumes of smoke from green grass. Most of their warriors made it, but some didn't. The fireballs scorched them, leaving chard remains where there had once been men. Fearghas stepped forward, a spear held in front of him.

"Know that I will avenge every one of these fallen. The God of War won't be appeased without bloodshed."

Rowena sighed; her brother always had a morbid fascination with poetry.

Among the fyrdman, Sir Godric counted his losses, walking among his battered, troops trying to still their nerves.

"As battles go, this is the worse start I've seen ever to any fight."

Among the Normans, William was unmoved.

"Today, we win or die."

Morgana spoke in a language that carried to all of her men. Her army split into three sections; one charged towards the Ravenclaw clan, and the rest spit off towards the Normans and Saxons. William's Norman, battle-hardened veterans, didn't move a muscle as the undiscipline horde swam towards them.

"Archers to the ready," William shouted. Over five hundred men readied their bowstrings. "FIRE!"

Five hundred arrows shot into the air, hidden by the midday sun. The arrows slammed into the unexposed Pictish warrior horde, mowing them down at an alarming rate.

"PROTEGO!" Morgana's wizards yelled in response.

The follow-up arrows simply vanished, robbing the Normans of a very important resource. William cursed; archers had been very important to his victories, and he hated being without them.

"Great, no archers," William cursed. "Forward men."

The Normans drews their swords and charged with William in the lead. Sir Godric simply raised his hand and shook Braveheart's reins.

"Fight like men possessed," Fearghas yelled, pulling out his spear and charging on foot. Rowena remained behind with a thousand men in reserve, waiting for the prefect moment to unleash them.

As thousands of men thundered towards each other, the air seemed to hold still. William drew out his sword and his wizards closed ranks. The distance on three fronts closed, yard by yard.

"Here they come," Sir Godric yelled.

Finally the first lines closed and men began to scream. With no grand stragety, the battle rapidly turned into settling of old grievances. Many Ravenclaw warriors and their allies had long fought agianst the Picts, and seeing them fraternizing with their hated enemy brought out bloodlust.

The ensuing fight was a vicious as any in ancient history, a brutal free for all that went off for over an hour with no movement on either side. By sheer wieght of numbers though, Morgana's men began to push them back on all fronts. Godric's fyrdman began to panic and started splitting up despite his best efforts to halt the retreat.

"Rowena, please, let us get in there," Dolag pleaded, as they watched this unfold from a hill overlooking the vicious Ravenclaw-Pict fight. "Our men are getting slaugthered."

"I'm fully aware of what's happening in front of me," Rowena reminded him. "I'm the Princess. We don't move until we're ready."

Dolag and his men muttered mutinsouly, but they stayed.

"We're getting pushed back," Godric said, finding William a bit blood splattered. "What do we do?"

"Fight on that's what," William said, clueless for the first time in his life.

"You don't have a plan," Sir Godric almost yelled in response. "Heaven help us."

Rowena was intently watching the battle, looking for any point of weakness, for that moment that could swing the tide. But nothing was coming to mind. She could see Godric's fyrdman now starting to run for the hills, William's veterans holding their ground, and her own men grudgingly backing up toward their reserves.

"Not good," Rowena muttered to herself.

"What?" Salazar said, appearing beside her. "Why aren't you in there right now?!"

"Nothing, I can't do anything."

"What do you mean you can't do anything?" Salazar almost yelled, causing some consternation within their ranks.

"When an army run for it, that's when it most vunerable. They'll be cut down like wheat before a scythe; I must save my men for when that comes."

Salazar began to pace behind her, frustrated, but stopped mid-stride. A candle lit up in his brain, an idea that Morgana hadn't even considered, a Muggle weapon against Wizarding that just might turn the battle around.

"Do you have archers?"

"Yes, like two hundred," Rowena said, looking back at her men. "Archers step forward."

"There," Salazar said, pointing. Morgana's wizards, about five hundred in total, could be seen raining spells and fireballs into the fleeing fyrdman.

"Really?"

"Totally."

"On one condition, we'll need all the help we can get, call your Basilisk again. DRAYDEN!"

She closed her eyes and felt for the improbable connection that let her know where he was; she could feel a familiar presence coming and more.

"No good," Salazar told her. "I can feel the Basilisk, but it's at least a hundred miles away hiding from some roosters right now.

"Drayden's coming and he's bringing friends," Rowena explained. She turned to the men behind her. "Archers with me. Everyone else, when the arrrows go off, charge."

Her warriors nodded and all of them followed Salazar and Rowena across hedgerows, rocks, and mountaintop for about fifteen minutes until they came to a rise behind Morgana's lines. Ahead of them they could see Morgana's wizards, cheerfully celebrating. Rowena's blood boiled as she saw them laughing, giggling, hooting and having the times of their lives.

"What idiots," Rowena swore. "ARCHERS! LOOSE!"

Two hundred arrows went flying and her men quickly reloaded as quickly as they could. The wizards didn't even hear anything; a hundred of them fell dead instantly and panic broke out. All ranks broken, Rowena's men dropped their bows and charged out of the woods while the Princess didn't attempt to restrain them. The wizards who survived tried to Apparate; many of them barely had time to lift their wands or turn on the spot before sharpened steel sliced into flesh.

Morgana wheeled about, watching in horror as her wizarding followers were mercilessly cut down by the Ravenclaw warriors. Morgana, watching in disgust, began to walk towards the woods.

"Salazar, if we stop her, we've won," Rowena said, grabbing his hand.

"No, we're not powerful enough," Salazar objected.

"I'm going are you coming or not?"

"Fine," Salazar said, following her. They broke off at a run and followed Morgana into the woods.

The destruction of Morgana's wizarding core sent a chill throughout her entire army. With her now missing, her now leaderless generals recalled as much of their men as possible. As the armies separated, thousands lay dead. The battle had become confused and fyrdman from Wales suddenly found themselves next to men from Normandy. But something had changed; William rode among them, rallying everyone's troops, not just his own. Bloodshed had forged a common bond among them.

"They're retreating," William noted to Sir Godric. "What do you say we do?"

Sir Godric looked around at the men around him.

"Charge, we're united as one now."

"For Normandy!" William shouted. His horse bucked and charged with Sir Godric in front of him.

The combined army brandished their lances, rocks, Danish axes, and swords and charged. Morgana's men charged again and men screamed as the lines met again. Behind them, Lasithes tried to intervene but a mass of arrows slashed into their ranks. Centuars, over a thousand of them stampeded into their ranks, catching the Lasithes by surprise. William's cavarly charged time and time again, cutting down anyone they could. Ravenclaw warriors grouped together and attacked every Pict they could see.

Morgana's men fought fiercely, but something happened that would change the course of the battle. A group of Norman cavalry, reinforced by a burly Ravenclaw contingent, broke through enemy lines. Riding and running to the edge of Morgana's army, they threw themselves against the enemy's right flank. Pictish warriors were thrown on top of each other in the rush to escape the onslaugth and the army broke up as men fled for their lives.

The rout began, and the victors weren't in any mood to spare anyone. At that moment, around ten dragons lead by Drayden flew into onto the field, targeting the fleeing mass of men. The rout quickly became a massacre.

* * *

Sneaking through Scottish woods was almost easy, execpt when there were berry bushes with thorns everywhere.

"How does she managed it?" Rowena snorted to Salazar. They'd long since lost Morgana and were just trying to find their way back to the battlefield. "Ooih, aah."

Golden blonde hair invaded her senses as two bodies collided. Rowena's knees buckled and down she went. She knew instantly who that was.

"Helga Hufflepuff," she snorted. "What are you doing here? Aren't you suspposed to be dealing with the wounded?"

"I could leave you," Helga said, dispondent, taking the Princess's hand. "I'm sorry..."

"I can hear you," Rowena said to the woods behind them. Slowly, Fearghas and around thirty soldiers came out of hiding.

"Fearghas, what are you doing here?" she demanded, walking up to him. "You're supposed to be leading our men on the battlefield."

"Sister, I insist you don't do this alone."

"She is magical, only we can stop her."

"We aren't going back, even if you scorche us."

Once again backed into a corner.

"I hate you," Rowena shouted, storming off.

"That means she like you," Helga told him, using her translation spell. She walked up to Fearghas. "I'm Helga Hufflepuff a Welsh healer, I don't think we've officially met."

"Thank you for everything you've done Lady Helga Hufflepuff," he said. "Any friend of my sister is a friend of mine."

"Enough, just stay behind Salazar and myself," Rowena warned them.

Salazar didn't say anything; the more the merrier. Morgana was powerful, and he was sure they were walking into a trap.

"Soldiers," Fearghas said. "Secure the area."

"Carefully," Rowena added. "We're lost."

"Not exactly," Fearghas said. "I saw a lake just up there."

"A lake?" Rowena said. She couldn't believe it; could they really be more north than she thought. "Wait, I know where we are. It's not good."

Rowena hurried up a nearby rise with everyone else behind her. As they crested the ridge the woods opened up. A lake was below them and across the it was a large drumlin, carved out by glaciers it rose to a point. She'd seen it in her dreams, she knew it by heart.

"She's going there, we have to stop her at all costs," Rowena told the others.

"Where?"

She pointed towards the crest of the drumlin.

"If I were the original Morgan le Fey I'd..."

"Chose the highest, most prominent, yet unmistakable place," Fearghas finished. "Easy to see other enemies by far, but oh so obvious. Wierd."

"Have any trouble?" Sir Godric asked, Apparating out of nowhere beside them.

"How did you find us?" Salazar demanded, stunned.

"The Centuars showed me where you are going. I Apparated where they told me to go. They aren't all frauds after all."

"Well," Rowena said, looking around at her small group. "Let's finish this."

* * *

Slowly they advanced into large stone strucutre. Torches automatically flared to life as they advanced down a stone corridor. Ahead of them walked ten Ravenclaw soldiers, around and behind, the other twenty. In the middle Rowena, Fearghas, Salazar, and Sir Godric walked, Helga glued to Rowena's side. Rowena and Godric had their swords drawn while Helga and Salazar provided wandlight. Slowly the columns opened up to a dungeon-like area.

"What are these?" one of the warriors asked.

Ice pillars, in the dead of spring, stood as silent sentinels, reflecting the sunlight into millions of rainbow patterns, creating an eerie, yet beautiful environment.

"Magical?" Helga asked.

"No one touch it," Rowena commanded, flinching as she looked at what had been a Ravenclaw warrior, now a very detailed ice sculpture. "Men, if you want to leave, you can."

Nobody left; they loved their King and Princess too much.

"Onward," Fearghas said, sword drawn, his spear long since lodged inside a Frankish soldier.

They passed other macabre objects, including a skeleton necklace, and other things Rowena was sure she was going to have nightmares about.

"Men," one of the Ravenclaw soldiers yelled.

Out from behind each pillar, at least three emerged.

"Take them out," Fearghas said. "Show no mercy."

The Ravenclaw warriors engagaged the enemy: Rowena covered Helga once again, but the Healer threw her off.

"I'm fine," Helga insisted, pulling out her trusty wand. " _Stupefy_!"

She Stunned a soldier who broke through the Ravenclaw lines. Within five minutes, every of the would-be ambushers was either dead or Stunned.

"Is that all?" Rowena asked, holding her sword and back to back with Godric.

"I think so," Fearghas said. "Men, keep close. More ambushes await us. I'm sure of it."

"Don't touch anything," Salazar told everyone again. "Even it if look harmless."

"That's right men," Rowena reinforced. "Don't touch anything."

The Ravenclaw warriors nodded and bunched up around the main group. A path lead through a mass of golden coins, which had pillars of ice up through them, with coins frozen in and on them. Skeletons dotted here and there, some of them impaled by contraptions, others attached to the ice pillars. Strangely, suits of armor walked by, but ignored them. Eventually the gold faded away to reveal a lab not much different from the one they found at Camelot. Books, with titles in Latin Rowena found she rather not read, covered the walls. Skulls, both human and animal, and many other potions floated in vials on the walls. And in front of them stood a woman with red hair, framed by the moon, standing on a large stone balcony that emerged out of the side of the hill. She turned, staring at them with piercing eyes that made everyone feel she was looking deep into their soul.

"Well," she said, so that everyone understood them. "Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, how sad we meet this way. I've tried so hard to kill you, all that bloodshed wasn't worth it you know, if you'd just given yourselves up."

Rowena's temper boiled over. She started to walk forward, but Helga grabbed her hand.

"Why don't you just come quietly?" Rowena asked in fluent Latin, but Helga's spell made it so that everyone understood her.

"Oh Latin, the language now corrupted by Christians," she mocked. "Muggles, worthless beings. I won't miss them."

"Not if we stop you," Sir Godric tautnted, drawing his rubied sword."Or are you scared?"

"Oh, Sir Fear Not they call you, I have everything I need right here."

Morgana waved her slid out of the way and a large metal spear attached to a stone pillar appeared. Ancient rune marks and a large layer of dust made it look quite creepy, everyone could feel some sort of power radiating through it. To Salazar's alarm, it was pointed south and he deduced it's intentions quickly, but Morgana beat him to it.

"This was designed to eliminate Camelot, but Merlin got here first, but failed to destroy it. Too bad, thanks for coming here. Once I kill you, everything will be as it was. Then London will fall followed by every

Morgana's underlings, some of them recogniable, appeared around them, along with Pict warriors.

"Deal with them while I get this ready," she said.

"We have to stop her," Rowena told everyone. "Or everyone we love is going to die. Ravenclaw, to ARMS!"

"We fight," Helga added, "STUPEFY!"

She stunned one of the Picts; everyone charged. Picts and Ravenclaw warriors clashed and the sounds of clanging metal filled the dungeon, followed by the screams of men being cut down. Rowena found herself face to face with one of Morgana's seconds, they whirled around exchanging blow after blow. She found herself being forced back.

"Avada..."

"Not today," Rowena shouted. She grabbed her sword off the ground and drove it into his right kneecap. The man howled before a quick punch to the face knocked him out.

She looked around; Helga was locked in mortal combat with another masked man, while the Ravenclaw warriors were mostly holding their own. Fearghas slashed down the man he was facing, while Sir Godric and Salazar were both dueling more masked men and women.

"Morgana," Fearghas said, brandishing his blade, now stained with blood.

"Not without me Fearghas," Rowena added, nudging him playfully.

Rowena and Fearghas charged forward; Fearghas swiped at Morgana's head but she ducked.

"Fine, I'll have to kill you myself," Morgana spat.

 _Good, she's distracted,_ Rowena thought.

She drew a wand and a sword from her belt. "Come at me."

" _Incendio_ ," Rowena shouted. Morgana deflected the curse out the window.

"Hard way," Fearghas said, nodding at his sister as she drew her sword. Both charged at Morgana with Fearghas swiping at her and Rowena firing spells. Against the two of them, she was evenly matched.

Back in the main battle, Sir Godric looked around. They were losing, half of the Ravenclaw warriors were down and Fearghas and his sister weren't making any progress against Morgana himself. The lion found himself back to back against Helga as they deflected random spells and stunned enemies.

"We have to do something," Hegla whispered.

"We have to split up," Salazar said, joining them. "Godric, Helga, stay here in the main battle. I'll sneak around and help Fearghas and Rowena."

"Deal," Helga said. She engaged another man who had just slashed down a Ravenclaw warrior, setting his pants on fire before blowing him out a window.

Godric impaled another warrior through the stomach and threw the lifeless corpse to the ground as he moved to pick of up the slack of the deceased Ravenclaw warriors.

White lightning exploded from Morgana's hands; Rowena dropped her sword and caught it as thousands of volt of electricity reverberated through her body, she turned towards the red-haired woman, and scowled. Forming fists with her hands, Rowena's determination increased as her power core aborbed the power and deflected it back at Morgana. Closer and closer the two approached each other, until the lightning rebounded and threw both back. Rowena slammed into a wall and slumped to the ground unconscious, leaving Fearghas alone.

The main battle had settlted into a stalemate; the Ravenclaw warriors, ten of them, Helga and Godric in a stand off with five of Morgana's underlings and fifteen Picts. Each was baiting the other, which the occasional foolish Pict easily cut down by Sir Godric or the Ravenclaw men.

Rowena came too and gasped in horror as a blade went through her brother's body.

"NOOOO!" she shouted, catching him as he slumped to the ground. She caught him, his blood wetting her hands. "Protego!"

A bubble of magic threw Morgana back; the witch turned her attention back to the weapon, leaving Rowena a deseprately neede reprieve. Tears came of their own accord, wetting her cheeks and falling on her brother's broken body.

"HELGA!" she screeched, deseparate. She saw through teary eyes, her best friend locked in mortal combat again. A warm, crimson laden hand affectionately cupped one of her cheeks and pulled her attention to the dying man in her arms.

"Sister," he said, coughing. "I'm sorry. You must be strong, become the Princess they need."

"No, I can't," she cried. "Don't leave me...Helga...she..."

"It's too late, it's my time. I know you can be strong," he pleaded. "Please believe me. Promise me you'll take care of my wife and unborn child."

Rowena nodded, tears streaming down her eyes.

"I will."

"See you on..the..other side...I...love...you..."

His body went limp and Rowena let out a cry of pain. Rage unlike anything she'd ever known rose within her. Bloodlust pumping through her veins, she let the rage take charge. She blindly charged at Morgana sword drawn. The two launched themselves at each other and went around so quickly everyone else stopped fighting to watch. Around and around they went, swords clanging, spells firing. At one point, Morgana did something to her blade, making it glow bright red and long; it magically extended and lashed out at the Scottish princess.

Rowena watched in atonishment as the blade came. She backflipped; the blade came within microinches of her stomach. As Rowena landed, the red sword wrapped around Rowena's; she threw her blade behind her, taking Morgana's sword with it.

 _Get her away from it_ , a voice told her.

She threw Morgana down the stairs behind her into the soldiers watching below.

"Salazar," Rowena said as the greasy Slytherin emerged from behind her.

"I've disconnected the power source, but it's still set to fire on London," he said. "There's too much power in it already."

"I'll stop it," Rowena pleaded, grabbing Salazar's hands and shaking them. "Morgana, stop her. I couldn't; only a dark magic practioner can. Please Salazar, if you can subdue her, we can find out who wiped out your family."

"Okay," he said.

By now, the Ravenclaw warriors, now eight left, had finished off the Picts. Morgana knocked them all out with a sweep of her hand. Helga was thrown backwards, slamming into a wall and slumping unconscious to the ground. Angered, Sir Godric recklessly charged at Morgana. The two clashed for a moment before resorting to wands.

"Is that all you've got," Sir Godric taunted, forcing Morgana back with a spell of his own invention.

"I don't do magic, I do both," Morgana said, pulling out a dagger and plunging it into Godric's knees. She knocked him to the ground, pulling out his own sword and rose it high into the air, ready to bring it down on the mighty lion.

"Avada Kadavra," someone shouted from behind her. A green jet of light missed her by inches.

Salazar walked up behind her, wand in hand.

"Duel me instead you b***," he said.

The two engaged, while up on the platform, Rowena tried to decipher the ancient Latin, but it was difficult.

"Okay," she said. She thought she knew what to do. She merged her hands with the spear, willing the magic inside the machine to join her. Pain reverbated through her body, but she held on. Screaming hysterically from pangs of grief and pain, as her magical core overloaded and filled every inch of her body. Rowena's knees buckled and she fell on her side. Cupping her hands, she held them out towards the moon. Heat burned her insides as a massive jet of white light erupted from her body. I

Pain wracked her body, but she held on to consciousness.

BANG.

Salazar disarmed Morgana, and with a blast from his wand, ropes tied her up. Something flashed about her and Salazar's eyes narrowed.

"Revelio!" he shouted.

The red hair and blue eyes faded away to reveal an old man in his fifties, but a badly mangled face. Many scars crisscrossed his face and his hair line was receding. Rowena, from the ground, gasped as shock shot up her spine.

"Father," Rowena said, stunned. "Wha...YOU!"

She was too weak to do anything, nearly stumbling down the stairs in an effort to get to him. She wanted to question him, to do all matter of unspeakable things to him. Helga grabbed the Princess, who's legs whined in protest at every step she took.

"Murderer! Monster! Why?" she demanded as Sir Godric helped him to his feet. "You killed hundreds of magical folk, yet you are a wizard! Why? Why didn't you kill me while you were at it?"

She tried to lunge at her father; only Helga's strong grip prevented her from face planting and knocking herself out. Exhaustion overtook her; her voice box choked out and nothing came out by air.

"Because of your mother," Redrik said, not meeting his daugther's wrathful gaze. He knew he was probably going to die, but he remained unbowed. "She died on the night you were cursed. That witch and her Muggle followers killed her. After that, I swore I'd use magic to punish those who caused her death. When that failed, I vowed to purge all of Brittanica of those who attacked her."

"Where you behind it?" Salazar demanded, his wand tightening the grip on the man's throat. "Did you create Morgana? Did you attack East Anglia!"

"Yes, I was going to rule over the greatest Ravenclaw kingdom there ever was," he snorted. "But my daughter had to ruin that."

"May God forgive you father, for I cannot," Rowena said, her emotions turbulent as grief and rage intersected, fought and tormented her. \

"No, death," Salazar said, driving a blade through the man's stomach. Her father slumped to the ground, lungs heaving for breath. Rowena's heart split open again as a sudden realization hit her; she was the last Ravenclaw now. She was an orphan, completely alone...almost.

"Salazar, did you have to?" Helga asked, shocked.

"He's the cause of all of this evil," Salazar defended as Redrik drew his last breath.

Sir Godric rolled his eyes; something within him told him that someday, ten years, twenty, perhaps even fifty from now, the two would clash. What that clash would be he didn't know, but he was sure with ever fiber of his being it would happen.

Rowena gasped; her father's body had changed before her eyes. Everything melted away; his grey hair, the scars, everything until only a skeleton remained.

"What?"

"I've heard of this," Salazar remarked, shaking his head. "Some dark wizards can reanimate a dead body, not bring it to life again, but control it with some semeblance of who the person was in life. Most likely your father died months ago."

Rowena bowed her head, still supported by Helga.

 _God, have mercy on my father's soul_ , she prayed.

"Let's go back, everyone's wondering where we are at," Sir Godric added, taking Rowena's feet.

Helga preformed a brief physical, checking Rowena for any wounds. When she pronounced her clear, the surviving Ravenclaw warriors came up to her. Rowena went limp; her exhuastion had one, whisking her away to the world of dreams.

"We want to carry our Princess, she's our only leader left. Please," one of them respectfully requested.

"Yes of coure," Helga said. "But I need to examine her when we get back to camp."

"Of course," they said. They carried like a hawk would carry it's young, as delicately as a rose.

Everyone left the cave. Salazar turned around.

"EXPULSO!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the machine.

To everyone's surprise, it blew up, it's metal pieces scattering everywhere into the cave, skipping across the surface of the lake and into the grass.

"Let's go," Salazar said to the others. "I don't want to be here anymore."

* * *

Rowena spent the next three days in bed in her house near York. Outside, the Normans, and the Saxons celebrated in a two night spectacular that nearly got out of hand it if wasn't for the large number of wizards and witches in their midst. Just as quickly as the army had come together, it broke up. Duke William, facing some rebellions in the south from Saxon overlords, marched his troops south towards London. Sir Godric also went south, in the direction of Godric's Hollow not long after to guard the Welsh border. Salazar took charge of a team of magical and Muggle historians and monks and began going through Morgana's and Merlin's libraries, destroying what was most evil and perserving certain manuscripts for the future.

Helga though stayed close to her side.

 _Never again will we be parted,_ Rowena thought as Helga opened the door.

"What a day," Helga said, beaming as the sun peaked over the horizon. She entered into Rowena's bedroom, a plateful of potions for the Princess to take. She had regained some of her cheery self now that the threat of them being killed every day had been lifted. "This school, what will you teach?"

"I won't be teaching anything," Rowena said. _Now is a good a time as any._

"What?"

"My magic is gone."

"That's imposssible," Helga said, completely shocked. "Nobody can take magic away."

"Maybe, but as my father said, I wasn't normal," she said. "Incendio."

Nothing happened, but Rowena jumped when a small flame alit on her hand.

"Maybe not."

"Your fire is usually much stronger. Did it happen-"

"When I aborbed the magic from that machine, most likely."

"I'm sorry," she said, giving the Princess an awkward half hug. "Take your medication, then you should be ready to leave."

"Helga the school won't be happening for a while."

"Why?"

"My people need me," she said with certainty. "The next heir is like what, three months old. We're surrounded by enemies on all sides. We've got to establish ourselves first, then we can found the school. But that doesn't mean we can lay foundations."

"Right Rowena," Helga said, kicking the hem of her brown dress out of the way. "Can you walk?"

"I can, but I want to rest some more."

"When was that a thing?"

"I've learned a lot," Rowena said sheepishly.

"Princess," one of Dolag's subordinates said, bowing to her.

"Yes warrior, what is it?" Rowena asked in a soft voice, ruffling the edges of her blue dress.

"Your people want to see you."

"For what?"

"Your coronation as regent."

Twenty four hours prior, the Princess might've groaned or run away. Instead, she met his gaze with her signature hawk-like expression.

"Give me an hour to get ready."

 **So the story behind where Hogwarts is founded is still shrouded in mystery, but according to J.K. Rowling, Rowena one night dreamt of traveling to a hill overlooking a loch lake, with a forest nearby, with a toad on the hill. I'll admit it isn't my best work and there will be errors, but this is the penultimate chapter. I can't believe this story is almost done. I'll dearly miss this story when I post next. A great thanks to everyone who reviewed when this story was in its infancy, to anyone who's even as so much taken a peak at it. Last of all, a big thanks to Beedle, author of the story The Divide. The first follower and reviewer, and I owe a lot to Beedle, our two stories updated in tandem and now both are almost completed. Life has a funny way of doing things. May God bless all of you in your future doings and while we wait through this frightful time.**


	34. Epilogue

Epilogue

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."-Eleanor Roosevelt

Rowena Ravenclaw emerged from her house flanked by her handmaids and Helga. Wearing just her blue dress with the Ravenclaw emblem on hem and her hair flowing loosely down her back, she didn't look too much different from her people. Thousands, perhaps more had shown up. Ahead of her was a grove, one that Ravenclaw royality had been crowned in for centuries. Standing before the plot of trees were representatives of Ravenclaw allies, Bishop Stigand from London, (and to her surprise) Sir Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Each of them beamed as she walked past them and Rowena smiled at each of them in return.

Two priests were there; Bishop Earlred of York and a Druid. Rowena's disdain for the old religion had become quite clear in the days after the battle when she threw out the priests who had once attended her father's court. She viewed them as corrupt figures regime and had exiled them when they tried to weasel their way back in. Hence the compromise for her coronation.

Her people slowly parted as she walked through them, the first woman to walk the path without a husband at her side. When she reached the grove, both the Bishop and Druid stepped forward. When she reached the grove, she stood before the two priests and her people dropped to their knees and waited. This ceremony wouldn't take long; her ancestors' had included many different rituals, but with everything gone, her advisers had decided on a more simpler approach.

"We gather here today at the bequest of God..." Earlred paused. Rowena smiled inwardly; the Christian bishop was Helga's idea.

"And the God of War," the Druid added.

Dolag stepped forward holding a book that looked quite worn. Someone had the foresight to save the book used for the coronation of royality when the flames of destruction consumed the castle.

"Rowena Kay Ravenclaw, as the last Ravenclaw heir, do you swear to uphold the laws, and serve your people with all your heart, mind, and soul until Fearghas's son comes of age," Bishop Earlred said.

"I will," Rowena said, curtsying to her people, who let out a loud cheer that sent birds on nearby trees flying into the air.

"Also, do you swear to protect, serve, and honor your ancestors and their Gods..(Rowena glared at him)... um, people until the day you leave this life."

"I swear," Rowna said, bowing her head again. "To do my best."

The Bishop recited some Latin verses and then switched to prefect Gaelic.

"I henceforth give you Princess Regent Rowena of Ravenclaw."

Her people rose to their feet and let out a cry of exclamation that deafened her. The Druid priest looked somewhat digruntled at the Bishop getting the final say; he quickly hid it under Rowena's withering gaze.

"Thank you Druid," she said in Gaelic.

"Will there be a sacrifice to the Gods afterwards?" he asked reprovingly.

"There will be, but Dolag will stand in my place. Ravenclaw law allows the monarch to desginate a represetive to do certain duties in her stead."

She turned to the Bishop who shared a mutual secret; she had just been baptized the previous day, a ritual that only Helga, he and the Princess knew about.

"Thank you, I'll stay faithful until the end."

"Just be careful Princess," Bishop Earlred said, pulling back the long sleeves of his bishop's robes. "I hope to see you again."

"You will one day."

The Bishop took his entourage and walked back towards the city of York. Her people crowded around her.

"Ooh, wait, please..."

Her feeble cries were lost among the scrum. _It's okay, it's just for today._

Rowena greeted her people as they lofted her upon their shoulders and began to carry her to what she knew was coming. The biggest warriors crowded around her and lifted her to stand upon an ancient pillar in the grove where Ravenclaw rulers had given their first speeches from. As she gazed at her people who'd endured so much, a lump grew in her throat.

 _What do I say,_ Rowena thought as nothing came to mind. She hadn't planned on this. As if in anwser, the voice of her mother spoke back to her. R _eassure, most importantly my daughter, never be happier than the least of these._

"My beloved people. We've been through so much, lost so many, including our homes. Yet we are still strong. The road ahead won't be easy, but it'll be manageable. Please, remember those who died in defense of our freedom. I know many of you long for your homes, but all I can offer is sweat, blood, and tears. Most importantly of all, I love each and every one of you. I may not have the strength of a man, but I have the heart of an Eagle. Let the memories of the fallen forever remain in our hearts as we shout. LONG LIVE RAVENCLAW!"

"LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS!" her people shouted.

She smiled, tears leaking from her eyes. Helga's hand silently found hers and gave it a tight squeeze.

"Thank you Helga, for everything," she said as Helga gave her a bone crushing hug.

"Thanks Sir Godric, Salazar, who knew we'd been friends from such far flung places."

"Yes, who'd have thought?" Salazar said as Rowena gave him another hug.

"About that school," Rowena said in Welsh. "Let's work on it. I'll write to you soon."

"I'll be looking forward to it." Sir Godric stated.

* * *

 _One year later..._

Rowena Ravenclaw looked out the window from her tower, in her signature blue Ravenclaw dress. Her room was now much different from when she was just a marriageless princess. Her bed, again made of the finest sheep wool and skin and carved from wood with bear emblems on the posts. A stone floor covered with rich carpets and a small wardrobe completed the look. The only difference was a fireplace that crackled and popped as officials would pop out of from time to time, a recent wizarding invention that afforded her some privacy.

She looked out to see the town being rebuilt. New shops, houses, defensive positions, marketplaces, and even a new sparring center were all under construction. In the town, Wizards and Muggles were working together to manually and magically carve and move beams, woods, and stone into position. The castle had been rebuilt first, in just under a year and then attention turned to the town.

Rowena moved and opened the door and descended the circular steps. Below, servants and ministers raced too and fro, bowing to the Princess as she passed. Rowena reflected on the past year, so full of joy, but with pangs of sorrow that still pricked her heart at losing her brother so quickly, a long life bond destroyed long before it could be fully realized.

 _If he was here, I hope he'd be doing the things I am_ , she thought as she entered a small room that served as her study.

"Catriona," Rowena said, seeing a brown-haired girl with a small bundle in her arms."How's Fearghus doing?"

"Still suckling, a mom's girl," Catriona said, holding a small baby in her arms. "He has Fearghus's eyes."

"Stay strong," Rowena cooed, taking her nephew in her arms and giving him a small peck on his forehead.

Giving the infant back to his mother, she continued to the room to find two owls, two pieces of parchment, and the now styled Lady Helga Hufflepuff (recently given to her by William) of Shrewsbury. Rowena smiled as she approached, recalling that Helga now maintained two residences; Thursdays through Sundays she was at Ravenclaw castle, but the other days of the weeks she stayed at her newly acquired estates and healing center in Wales, shuttling back to Ravenclaw Castle each night.

 _What would I do without her,_ Rowena thought.

"Helga, you ready?" she asked, squeezing the shorter woman's shoulder.

"Always Sister," Helga squealed, brushing some dust off of her yellow and white dress. "By the way, the Wizarding Council wrote to tell us that they can't put names to every wizard who died at the Battle of the Nations."

"Even the hooded ones who where her sidekicks?" Rowena queried.

"Well that's the problem," Helga said. "Nearly all of them fell during that little arrow shower you put together. No one really knows who they were, or where they came from."

Rowena shook her head in frustration; for the last years, she'd lobbied and used every resource to find out the names of the men who had chased them so vehemently around Brittanica. The Wizarding Council's newly created Auror Department was busy tracking down every dark wizard they could find. She could only had faith in them for once that they would do their job.

"It's okay, don't worry about it," Rowena said, taking an eagle quill and a pot of ink. "It's time anyways. Ravenclaw's enemies have been brought to heel, your healing business is booming, Sir Godric is secure in his land holdings, and Salazar's business ventures and Camelot's libraries are safe and sound. It's time."

She dipped the quill into the inkpot and began to write.

 _Dear Sir Godric Gryffindor_

 _It's time. My lands are secure and so are yours. We've saved many children from the stake, but I still feel it's not enough. I've given some thought to what I said to you a year ago and Helga and I have more plans now for how it'll work._

 _Each of us will teach a different subject and we'll all have our own house for students of our choosing, as we've already expressed differences on the matter. Salazar can take those of pureblood descent, you can take those who are bold of heart, I'll take those who have their wits about them, and Helga will be delighted to take the rest (she exchanged a glance with Helga to make it was worded okay)._

 _Enclosed is a floor plan and I already have some wizards working on placing charms on the site to protect it from non-Magic folk. Relations between witches and non-magic are good here, but in some areas, witches are still being hunted. We must act now. Please write back as soon as possible._

 _As always, your Princess and dearest friend_  
 _Rowena Ravenclaw_

Helga waved her wand and a copy appeared on the other piece of parchment. Rowena made some corrections to it, replacing Gryffindor's name with Salazar's.

"What do you think about Salazar?" Helga asked, reading the letters, which were written in Welsh and Saxon. "I have misgivings about him."

"Well, it's necessary," Rowena said, finishing up her corrections. She put the eagle quill down and began folding the floor plans into the envelopes. "Many of the older Wizarding families aren't too fond of non-magical folk right now. Salazar will in effect represent their interests. It Sir Gryffindor I'm worried about."

"What?"

"The mighty Lion is set in his ways and lives according to his morals, which aren't wrong. But what happens if Salazar goes down his path too far? I'm sure Godric won't approve."

"Yeah, but we have to try."

"Right, oh, I almost forgot. I've got a name for the school."

She grabbed up the eagle quill again.

"What?"

"Last night, I dreamed a warty hog lead me to that very cliff by the lake we fought at. I have an idea for the name of the school. And it's the name of a flower as well, so I think it'll go over well."

She wrote it in less than twenty seconds.

"What do you think?"

Helga read the last line.

 **P.S. We should call it Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

"Excellent," Helga squealed, giving Rowena an impromptu hug.

Rowena sealed the letters up, tied it to the owls' legs and opened the window. They flew out, letters attached to their legs.

"I can't wait," Helga said, pulling the Princess tighter. "I love you Sis."

"I love you too," Rowena said, returning the embrace. "Come on, we've got issues to attend to."

Addendum

 _With Morgana gone, another wave of violence erupted along the British Isles. Yet, in the middle of all this devastation, fate has yielded its reward; a school young wizards and witches can now call home. I don't how long Hogwarts will last, or our legacy, history will be the judge of that. I do know this; wizards will always live amongst our non-wizarding brothers and sister, waiting and watching for maybe one day we can finally live side by side in peace._

 _I don't know if my kingdom will survive, I just hope that one day, violence will largely cease and we'll be able to live in peace. As I look to the sky, thinking about my brother who awaits on the other side, I cannot but reflect on what was. I have witnessed the non-magic's people's capacity for courage, equaling those of my people, and like magic itself, there is more to them than meets the eye._

 _My name is Princess (not Professor) Rowena Kay Ravenclaw of Scotland. I can only pray to God that one day, our school will survive and shape our future; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 **THE END**

 **What an accomplishment. It's been a year and a half since this was started back in 2018 (my third attempt actually at a Founders story). There so much more I'd like to do and so many ways I can see I could seriously improve this story; I might do some editing in the months and years to come. I'm working to become a professional author one day. But we have to roll the credits.**

 **First in line is Beedle. The early support lended was crucial in getting the early chapters off the ground. The knowledge Beedle has of England was crucial in cross-checking the early chapters focusing on York and the trip to Godric's Hollow. Next up is LucyLuna, who's very critical early reviews inspired me to continue the fanfict (I know I should've proofread better, there's no excuse for that).**

 **Next is all the readers who even as much peaked at this fanfict and lead to over 6,000 views (as of right now). And most importantly to Beedle, LucyLuna, Dream-Girl2016, ayleaa, iunlealumen, BitterMagic, and valeries26 all for following and favoriting within two weeks of the original publication date. I also must acknowledge English Heritage, the organization that maintains so many sites critical to British History (I am actually of English descent myself from Warwickshire) and Brainyquote, where many of the quotes that are listed in the chapter headings (most, but not all) came from.**

 **And last, a shout out to our favorite author J.K. Rowling and Scholastic, which took a chance on the then unknown author from Scotland and brought Harry Potter from the U.K. to America. Without her expressive imagination, none of this would exist. If anyone would like to discuss this story further or even ways it could be improved, feel free to PM me and we can discuss it. I don't know where my path will lead, but eventually I will pop up in another fanfict.**

 **Sincerely**

 **Frozen 789**


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